


shadows in moonlight

by kaeg



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Bad Parent Robert Lightwood, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, First Meetings, Fluff, Homophobia, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship, Summer Love, Swimming, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeg/pseuds/kaeg
Summary: So now Alec’s confused—the midday sun is pounding against the bare skin of his back, his feet are burning against the ground, and there’s a very attractive boy in the pool.He’s gaping, and he really doesn’t mean to be butdammit—he can’t really stop himself.And then the stranger opens his eyes and squints at Alec through the light.‘Are you going to watch me all day, pretty boy?’ He asks, and Alec almost collapses where he stands.—(aka: magnus and alec fall for each other over the course of four weeks. this particular summer love involves tennis courts, silk shirts and wine.)





	1. JUNE—JULY

**Author's Note:**

> this was done for shadowhunters au mondays, a pretty cool thing you should check out on [tumblr](http://shadowhuntersaumondays.tumblr.com)!!
> 
>  
> 
>  **edit (16/05/2018):** the fic hasn't updated (yet), but i edited the fic! no plot points have changed. the only noticeable difference is magnus talking about his "father" instead of his "parents" in most instances. my writing has very much improved since september and i wanna show that.  
> 

 

**JUNE—JULY**

 

“It is June.  I am tired of being brave.  
We drive to the Cape.  I cultivate  
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,  
where the sea swings in like an iron gate  
and we touch.  In another country people die.  
My darling, the wind falls in like stones  
from the whitehearted water and when we touch  
we enter touch entirely.  No one’s alone.  
Men kill for this, or for as much.”

 

—Anne Sexton, “The Truth the Dead Know”

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a boy in Alec’s pool.

It’s technically not _his_ pool—it just happens to be outside the apartment they’ve rented, the one with a view of the beach from the balcony and clean tiles on each floor. It’s all so new, so _bright,_ and he ends up trapped in the same bliss of tourists, duffel bags and a developing tan.

The entire complex has been enveloped in silence since they arrived and Alec _loves_ it. He loves the way the water stays warm under the evening sun and he can watch the sky change colour. He loves climbing out his bedroom window and tip-toeing around to the front of the gardens just because he can. Their only neighbours stay on their patios to watch the moon rise or play with their dogs on the green in the early morning, and Alec loves that too.

It’s so different to everything back in Brooklyn; the nights are loud here, but not overly so. The air, filled with salt and seaweed, doesn’t suffocate him. The days are gentle.

So now Alec’s confused—the midday sun is pounding against the bare skin of his back, his feet are burning against the ground, and there’s a very attractive boy in the pool. He’s lying on an air mattress, hair pushed up into gentle curls and eyes closed. He’s floating near the edge and there’s a towel piled near the ladder. A loose-fitting shirt is thrown over the bars.

Alec’s gaping, and he really doesn’t mean to be but _dammit_ —he can’t really stop himself.

And then the stranger opens his eyes and squints at Alec through the light.

‘Are you going to watch me all day, pretty boy?’ He asks, and Alec almost collapses where he stands.

The stranger reaches toward the pool’s edge for a pair of sunglasses propped up against the concrete. He lets out a small groan when he accidentally pushes himself further into the water and throws an arm over his eyes. If Alec looks closer, he’s almost certain that the boy’s eyebrow is raised. Like he’s... _waiting_. Like he’d still be looking at Alec if his arm wasn’t blocking his gaze, wishing to see his next move.

So Alec doesn’t think—he just makes his way around poolside, heart beating loud in his chest. He drops down onto his hunches to take the stranger’s glasses in one hand and reaches into the water with the other, grabbing the edge of the air mattress and pulling it toward him.

The stranger sits up at the sudden movement, lowering his arm from his face, and he’s already smiling, teasing and warm.

‘I’m guessing these are yours,’ Alec murmurs, and he watches as the stranger tilts his head up. His eyes dance over Alec’s every feature, trailing from his chest to the muscles of his arms, lingering on his lips. The sunglasses dangle from Alec’s hand, already forgotten.

The boy reaches out. He grips the glasses where they hang between them, but then they both freeze. ‘I’m Magnus.’

And isn’t that the name of ages, Alec wonders—he’s already elegant enough, nonchalant as he moves and breathes. It matches the blonde streaks fading in his hair, the broadness of his shoulders and the smirk that pulls at the edges of his lips and makes his eyes crinkle.

It’s beautiful, _he’s_ beautiful, and Alec’s done for.

‘I’m Alec,’ he whispers. Magnus smiles, dropping the glasses into his lap. Alec grips the curved edges of the pool like he’s about to fall in and maybe he is, because Magnus is barely inches away, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. His breath’s warm against Alec’s jaw, eyes bright and glowing in the sun.

But then Magnus slips the glasses on, hair tickling Alec’s collarbone as he reaches forward and pushes himself away from the pool’s edge, water lapping in glittering blue waves as he floats away.

He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head in question. The sunglasses fall down his nose until he’s looking at Alec over them.

Alec takes a moment to breathe before he jumps in. The water’s warm.

If Izzy sees them that evening from the balcony, laughter loud and obnoxious, she says nothing. She doesn’t speak of Magnus drying off his arms, legs still submerged until Alec grips his waist and pulls him back in. She stays quiet about the way Magnus brushes Alec’s wet hair from his forehead, hand lingering on his cheek. She doesn’t mention the way Magnus does laps while Alec watches.

Magnus helps Alec out when they’re both called in for dinner, towelling each other off like they know the maps of their bodies perfectly, each dip and curve and scar.

If Izzy sees them hold hands before they part, she keeps it a secret between three.

 

* * *

 

Alec drops to the floor while Magnus laughs, tennis racket bouncing against the pavement. There’s footsteps while Magnus moves closer, and then all Alec can feel is warmth against his back through the netting. They feel like mirror images of each other; legs  pulled up to chests, heads tilted back, fingers caught in the braided cord. Their shirts stick to their arms and shoulders. Their hands touch, just a gentle brush of skin, nails tracing every groove and dipping between knuckles.

‘How many weeks do you have left?’ Magnus asks.

‘Three.’ Alec leans forward to rest his forehead against his knee and Magnus’ head falls back with the movement, hair pressing to the nape of Alec’s neck. ‘You?’

‘Four.’

Alec hums, and Magnus’ hand snakes under the net. His fingers trail along the Alec’s shirt, tracing patterns, hesitating on the hem. ‘This is just…it’s the first place that I don’t want to leave, y’know? Just—everything here is _good_.’

Magnus nods in agreement. ‘Any specifics?’

Alec laughs. ‘Well, uh—the apartment’s nice, for starters. The weather’s always perfect, because it’s warm but you can still go outside in it. The air smells nice, like—not polluted. It’s fresh, and clean, if that…makes sense?’

‘It does. Go on, Alexander.’ Magnus turns around fully now, lifting the net and scooting underneath it until he’s pressing into Alec, arm to arm. ‘I like listening to you.’

‘Everyone’s happier, here,’ Alec says. He’s acutely aware of the way Magnus is watching him and smiling. ‘Maybe it’s because we don’t have any responsibilities like we do at home, but they’ve been really nice all week. They’re better than I’ve seen them in a long time. Izzy loves all the markets and the villages, and my parents like the exploration side of things—safari tours and historical buildings, stuff like that.’

A silence stalks between them for a moment before Magnus shifts, watching Alec from the corner of his eye.

‘And you?’ He says and his voice is _low,_ dangerous in a sense that makes Alec’s stomach drop. ‘What do you like?’

Alec pauses. Considers. ‘I, uh— I like you.’

There’s a pause. Then Magnus is _grinning,_ big and bright and beautiful, and he turns toward Alec to wrap his hand around Alec’s wrist and pin it to the floor. The other hand lands underneath Alec’s chin with a featherlight touch.

He drags his thumb across Alec’s jaw like he’s fragile and Alec’s eyes trail along Magnus’ lips, a temptation that he just can’t seem to ignore.

‘We only have three weeks, you know,’ Magnus whispers and Alec turns, moving until their foreheads are pressed together.

‘I know,’ Alec whispers back. His voice is just as soft, delicate, _frail;_ a secret for the history books.

His lips meet Magnus’ for a shivering moment, rough and smooth all at once, and he pulls back fast. He finds Magnus’ eyes and searches for the words he can’t say.

Magnus nods and Alec ducks back in. His free hand trails up Magnus’ chest, tangling in silky fabric until it reaches Magnus’ neck and Alec pulls him closer.

It’s astonishingly new. Alec feels like he’s starving and Magnus is his oxygen, lips sweet and soft and careful. Magnus’ hand runs up Alec’s arm until he’s gripping Alec’s shoulder, their legs tangled, a moan escaping Magnus’ lips when Alec reaches up into his hair. Magnus finds himself leaning over Alec with his arms on either side, tilting Alec’s head back, the two of them kissing until exhaustion sets in.

They pull away slow. Alec opens his eyes and dips his hand under Magnus’ shirt just to see him smile.

‘Three weeks of that doesn’t sound so bad,’ Alec says, voice rough. He makes room for Magnus to sit down but they end up on top of each other instead, legs tucked together and arms around shoulders—not that Alec minds.

‘We’ll make it last,’ Magnus murmurs, and it sounds like a promise.

Alec moves to press a kiss or two to Magnus’ jaw, dropping his forehead against Magnus’ shoulder. Magnus’ fingers tangle in messy black hair, combing through it.

Izzy calls Alec for dinner a while later. He leaves Magnus with the taste of sunlight on his lips and disappears beyond the gate.

 

* * *

 

Realistically, the whole situation isn’t that strange; there are a couple restaurants nearby and this one’s the closest; it’s the most popular with the best reviews. It stills surprises Alec when Magnus and his father stroll in the main doors and take the table directly across from them, all the same.

From then on, all direction is lost. Alec forgets the conversation to sneak glances across the floor. His gaze lingers on the necklaces draped over Magnus’ exposed skin, the rings adorning his fingers, the bracelets glittering in the light.

He looks beautiful, and Alec feels so subpar with the way his henley curves around his shoulders under his jacket; olive green and worn in and so incredibly _plain_.

He orders his food when asked to and watches as Magnus does too; he’s all elegant hand gestures and flirtatious smiles toward a young-looking waiter, who just blushes and hurries away. Alec rattles off the answers to all of his parents’ questions; _are you enjoying the holiday?_ they ask, and he nods. _What classes are you taking in September?_ He recites the same list as last time.

They don’t really…pay attention. It’s something Alec constantly notices. He wonders what it’s like to have parents who know all your gritty details, and then wonders if he’s better off.

They go back to talking among themselves, and it’s all the courage Alec needs to find Magnus’ eyes. Magnus looks over moments later, holding his gaze just long enough to tip his head back and raise his eyebrows. Alec finds what he was gesturing to and nods. Magnus smiles.

He stands up from the table after a few minutes, disappearing into the bathroom. Alec watches the door swing once, twice, before excusing himself and following.

There are three doors in the hallway, and there’s one that’s still moving. He hurries to push it open and finds a small room—a marble vanity against the wall, a table and chair in the corner. The mirror’s clean and the painting looks expensive.

His eyes find Magnus leaning against the vanity, ankles crossed, head tipped down. Alec slides the lock across with a _click_ and then moves with ease, bracing his hands on either side of Magnus’ body.

‘Evening, pretty boy,’ Magnus says, smiling. He reaches out to press a hand against Alec’s chest; it trails over his stomach while the other finds Alec’s hips, gripping at the belt loops.

Alec hums as he moves in, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ temple and resting his forehead there. He breathes in. ‘How long until they start to wonder where we are?’

‘A few minutes.’

‘Okay.’ Alec moves to twirl one of Magnus’ necklaces around his finger. ‘Does he know about me?’

Magnus shakes his head.

‘Yeah, I haven’t mentioned anything either.’ Alec’s hands freeze, and Magnus looks up. ‘Do they know about, uh, _you_?’

Magnus hums with understanding; when he sighs, it sounds peaceful. ‘He knows I’m bi. He isn’t overjoyed, but it is what it is.’

‘My parents—they don’t know. About me.’

‘I’m guessing this stays between us, then?’ Magnus meets Alec’s eyes. ‘No slips of the tongue?’

Alec nods, rubbing circles into Magnus’ hip. ‘Yeah. If that’s okay.’

‘Of course it’s okay, Alexander,’ he says, pressing a hand to Alec’s cheek. ‘I just wish we had more time.’

‘Me too.’

It’s a moment of sobriety they haven’t gotten yet; their time’s been filled with laughter and sunlight and soft touches to softer skin. _Endings_ haven’t been on their minds. But the days are counting down now, and they can only ignore it all for so long.

Magnus brushes a thumb over Alec’s cheekbone, smiling. ‘For now, we can take this moment.’

‘Yeah,’ Alec breathes, accompanied by that damn lopsided grin and then Magnus is leaning forward, capturing Alec’s lips against his own, sighing into the taste of cider. His hands trail up into Alec’s hair. He grasps at Alec’s hair as he stands a little straighter, opens his mouth a little wider, and he feels Alec pull away for a lungful of air before pressing back against Magnus’ bottom lip.

Alec’s hands wind around Magnus’ back and one dips under airy fabric, his thumb moving along Magnus’ spine. He moans into Magnus’ mouth when Magnus pulls away from the vanity and presses up against him, because it’s nothing less than intoxicating.

They breathe heavy as they part. Their foreheads touch, and the silence is broken by their breathing and the clattering of dishes outside.

Magnus wishes to stay here the whole night; there’s a life he’d live if the world stopped turning and he was left to his own devices. But they’re going to be expected back any minute now and Magnus has never been that good at lying about these things; beautiful boys, swollen lips, wrinkled shirts.

‘I missed you today,’ Alec says, kissing Magnus again. ‘We went to a waterpark a little bit out from here.’

‘Mhm, I figured,’ Magnus says, running his hand through Alec’s fringe where it’s sticking up and out. ‘I can _smell_ the chlorine.’

Alec laughs, eyes crinkling as he moves his hands back to Magnus’ waist. ‘Izzy wanted to go, and I didn’t want to at first. It was fun, though.’

‘I’m glad you had a good day,’ Magnus tells him, and presses a kiss to his temple. ‘We got a boat to Silves,’ he continues, ducking his head to hide his grin. ‘I almost dropped a glass of sangria into the river, and then they started handing out firewater shots.’

‘Oh, god,’ Alec groans, dropping his forehead down onto Magnus’ shoulder to laugh. ‘I _hate_ firewater. It tastes like white spirits.’

‘It’s an acquired taste, I’m sure,’ Magnus laughs. He moves his hand from Alec’s hair to press against his neck, and Alec stands up straight. ‘I’m sorry for muffing up your hair.’

Alec shrugs, running his thumb along Magnus’ bottom lip. ‘I think I ruined your lipgloss.’

‘All water under the bridge,’ Magnus grins. He kisses Alec’s cheek. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’

Alec nods, fumbling to entwine their free hands. He doesn’t want to lose this touch. ‘I hope so.’

Magnus leaves the room some seconds later, shooting Alec one last smile. Alec counts down sixty seconds before following him out, muttering some excuse about lousy faucets as he sits down.

He glances at Magnus before they stand to leave. His lips are a little too red, and there’s a couple of coiled links in his necklace where Alec had grabbed at them.

Izzy sends him a knowing look from across the table and he thinks nothing of it.

 

* * *

 

Alec’s never seen such a picture-perfect place; cobbled streets and chipping paint, trees planted on the riverwalk with knitted decorations around their trunks. People stand for shade under parasols and window arches, ducking inside shops and looking at clothes they don’t intend to buy. Multi-coloured pennant flags cast shadows on the pavement, swaying back and forth in the breeze.

The day is beautiful and Alec feels trapped in time, wandering through streets where the parked cars feel wrong and rusted motorcycles lean against alley walls. A ginger cat curls its tail around Alec’s ankle where he stands in a souvenir shop and he ducks down, pretending that he’s tying his shoe to pet it while under his father’s gaze.

Still, he doesn’t leave the store empty handed; behind the shorts and floral t-shirts, he finds a table of rings. Silver and bright, each sports a different pattern, carved with dramatic curves.

He buys one for Magnus and smiles a little too wide at the women at the counter while she slips it into a linen pouch, tying the strings. He convinces his parents that it’s for Aline back home, and they don’t question him for the rest of the day.

They step inside a gallery filled with drawings from local artists. Izzy pulls Alec to the side and neither Robert nor Maryse notice.

She waits until they’re completely alone to speak, ducked between one painting of the river and another of an older woman on a balcony. ‘Is the ring for the boy from the pool?’

Alec’s breath catches in his throat. ‘What, uh— What d’you mean?’

Izzy smiles, knowing and sweet. ‘You know. The one you played tennis with the other night.’

‘I—’ He looks up at her now; he sees her soft eyes and relaxed posture, and it’s all the encouragement Alec needs. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘Mom and Dad might not pay attention to you, but I do,’ she says, shrugging. ‘If the ring _is_ for him, it’s sweet.’

Alec pauses.

‘Yeah, it is,’ he admits, and smiles. The little pouch hidden in his pocket feels heavy now, a reminder that good things happen. ‘His name’s Magnus.’

‘You kissed him at the restaurant the other night.’

And he laughs at that, light and free and _happy_. ‘Yeah.’

She looks around cautiously before she speaks. Hiding between paintings, it feels like they’re spilling secrets to those who can’t repeat them. ‘I can cover for you, if you need it. If you want to meet him somewhere I’ll say I’m going with you. It’ll be less suspicious that way.’

Alec ducks his head like he can’t help it: thank god for his sister, for being understanding in all the ways the world envies and gentle where it counts. ‘Thanks, Iz.’

She moves toward him, pressing her painted nails into his shoulders. ‘You deserve to be happy. Find out his number or get his address. Write him letters.’

Alec laughs, but that’s his plan. He’ll perfect his cursive, write the same address all over notebook pages until it’s memorised. He’ll draw love hearts on the corner of the envelope; a reminder of times past, shared breaths, hands on skin. He’ll mark his initials on the opening flap so Magnus knows exactly who sent it. ‘Romantic.’

‘You can be poetic when you want to be,’ Izzy teases, and takes his hand. ‘C’mon, let’s get back.’

 

* * *

 

Magnus says he’ll wait for Alec that night. Izzy finds a board game tucked under a stack of tablemats and tells Robert and Maryse that Alec has a headache, that he’s taken some painkillers and not to disturb him. She draws the curtains across the balcony door and makes Alec wait until the sun sets.

Magnus is resting against the pool wall when Alec approaches. Cool tiles press up to his chest, his elbows holding him up while he scrapes his painted nails against concrete. His bag hangs from the gate and his t-shirt’s folded on a lounge chair.

Magnus hears Alec’s gentle footsteps and turns his head, water lapping around him, his smile growing into something giddy. Alec drops down onto his hunches, and Magnus pushes himself up from the water onto solid ground. They don’t touch, but he dips his head and lets his breath ghost over Alec’s neck. ‘Good evening, Alexander.’

‘Hi,’ Alec says and he smiles at the way _Alexander_ rolls off Magnus’ tongue. Alec reaches for his hand, but hesitates. ‘Can I show you something?’

‘Of course,’ Magnus murmurs, and then Alec’s pulling him to his feet. The sun is warm against Magnus’ legs and he reaches for his bag, pulling on his shirt as he goes.

The air is chilly as clouds roll overhead for the first time in days. Smooth stones press into their feet as Alec climbs over the window railing, taking Magnus’ hand and helping him over even though he doesn’t need it.

It feels strange: Magnus in Alec’s room, with the rest of the Lightwoods laughing next door. It makes Alec want too much of everything; he wants to hide in here, build a life here, go home to Brooklyn and be greeted by the same teasing smile and warm voice on the days when he needs it.

‘Are we able to stay here?’ Magnus whispers. He gently squeezes Alec’s hand where they’re still entwined.

Alec nods, looking back at the door on reflex. He ducks his head and watches Magnus through his lashes, inching closer, little by little. ‘Yeah, we’re okay. Izzy told them I have a headache.’

Magnus hums, and lifts his free hand to Alec’s cheek, his smile turning cheeky. ‘You don’t, do you? Because I can go if you want to rest—’

Alec rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t actually have a headache.’

‘Oh, that’s good,’ Magnus says, and presses a kiss to the corner of Alec’s mouth, clumsy as he smiles. ‘I thought I’d have to leave you all alone.’

‘Wouldn’t want that,’ Alec whispers. Magnus drops his hands as Alec kisses the underside of his jaw, trailing down his neck until he drops one to Magnus’ shoulder and rests his head there, pressing his forehead to the fabric, soft and clean. Magnus’ hands curls around Alec’s waist, rubbing circles on his back. The position is so familiar, as easy as breathing, and Alec loves the warmth of Magnus’ against him, _holding_ him.

They stay like that for a while; the window open, cool air ghosting up Magnus’ back. Alec turns his face closer into warm skin, content in listening to Magnus breathe like it’s making his heart beat.

‘I got you something,’ Alec admits into Magnus’ collarbone. He smiles at the way Magnus’ grip on him tightens just a little, nails curling into skin.

‘You did?’

Alec nods and steps back from Magnus’ embrace, moving over to his nightstand. As he rummages around, Magnus sits down on the bed and brushes over the covers with a small smile. He looks around the room—it’s tidier than Magnus imagined, with only a shirt or two sticking out from the closet in disarray.

Alec finds the bag underneath a folded towel and he pushes himself up onto the mattress, legs tucked up and knees against Magnus’ thigh. He takes Magnus’ hand and presses the pouch into his palm. Alec laughs and presses a kiss to his shoulder when Magnus freezes. ‘Go on, open it.’

He begins pulling at the strings, then, fingers slow and delicate. He turns it over to empty the contents into his hand. The ring bounces against his palm. He freezes.

‘There was a market in the town,’ Alec whispers, head bowed as he plays with the hem of Magnus’ shirt. ‘It had an art gallery and a museum, and all these little stores with clothes and jewellery…’

Magnus takes the ring between his thumb and index finger, head tipped to the side, and Alec smiles. ‘I wanted to get something for you, so you’d, y’know, remember me.’

Magnus slips it on, and Alec watches it gleam in the light. ‘I thought you’d like it.’

There’s a pause before Magnus sighs, and when he looks up at Alec it’s with adoration.

‘I won’t need something to remind me of how wonderful you are,’ he whispers, lifting a hand to Alec’s cheek, ‘but I appreciate it, darling. I really do.’

The silver of the ring feels cold against Alec’s skin but he welcomes it, leaning into Magnus’ touch. ‘You deserve it.’

Magnus smiles, gentle. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘Don’t say that. We only have a week.’

‘I told you I’ll write to you. I’m much more eloquent when I have time to choose my wording.’ Magnus smiles as he leans in, pressing his lips to Alec’s. It’s short and tender and when he pulls back, he runs his thumb under Alec’s eye. ‘Thank you for the present, Alec. It’s lovely.’

‘I’m glad you like it.’ He smiles up at Magnus, dopey and lopsided and lovestruck. He yawns while he closes the drawer and scrunches up his nose as he sits down.

‘You tired?’ Magnus’ hand moves through Alec’s hair, scratching at the nape of his neck.

‘Long day,’ Alec says, and presses a hand to Magnus’ ribs. ‘You don’t have to stay.’

Magnus hums. ‘What if I want to?’

‘Then I’d like it.’

Alec kisses him again and Magnus sighs into it, pushing against Alec until they both fall back onto the pillows with a thud. Alec’s quiet laugh muffles against Magnus’ lips. Magnus falls to Alec’s side. Alec watches him.

‘You can go to sleep, you know,’ Magnus notes, running lines down Alec’s chest with his hands, down every dip and curve.

Alec sighs. ‘But you’re here, and we don’t have that much time.’

‘The time we have isn’t important, Alexander,’ Magnus says, smiling. ‘It’s what we do with it. And I happen to know that none of our neighbors wake up before ten, so the pool will be rightfully ours in the morning.’

‘I doubt even _you_ can wake me up before ten.’ Alec’s voice is soft as he moves closer, a hand curling into Magnus’ shirt.

‘I can be very persuasive,’ Magnus says.

Alec drifts off slowly, breathing quietly against Magnus’ chest. Magnus spends half an hour committing Alec to memory before disappearing through the window.

 

* * *

 

‘Do you like pasta?’ Magnus says in greeting, leading Alec from the garden into the kitchen by their entwined hands, waving around a spoon.

‘I do,’ Alec says, furrowing his brow, ‘but I thought I was here to fold laundry.’

‘I may have emptied an entire bag into the pot,’ Magnus says, gesturing toward the cold hob with a grin. ‘My father’s going shopping soon, anyway.’

‘When will he be back?’ Alec asks, leaning against the kitchen table.

‘Oh, about six or seven,’ Magnus says. Alec makes a small noise of confusion, and Magnus waves a hand. ‘He went to see an orchestra that does shows once or twice a year. I didn’t want to go.’

But Alec knows Magnus would’ve loved that show; he would’ve loved the thrill of live music, and the complications of each instrument. He knows this because Magnus mentioned it all one night, excitement in his voice. ‘Magnus—’

Magnus whips around, smiling softly as he approaches Alec and taps the wooden spoon to the centre of his chest.

‘I would much rather spend time with you, darling,’ Magnus says and kisses him, pulling back with a gentle smile as the hob flares up red.

Alec grins as he sits down, pulling the laundry basket from off the kitchen table and into his lap.

He ends up watching Magnus instead: he bobs his head to the radio ever so slightly, leaning against the counter. He looks relaxed, impossibly so.

‘What’s your father like?’ Alec asks out of nowhere, and he drops his head as his cheeks go red.

Magnus turns to him.

‘Very… _professional._ ’ Magnus laughs: it’s forced, deprecating and harsh to Alec’s ears. ‘Very by-the-book.’

Magnus exhales softly, hand on the counter, fingers still. ‘And yours?’

‘They’re, uh…’ Alec’s hands freeze around a knitted red sweater, and he shrugs. ‘They’re unhappy.’

It sits in the air for a moment. But then he frowns because Magnus isn’t speaking. Magnus hasn’t said a word and Alec has probably ruined the moment, because Magnus spoke about his parents like it was all a very sad joke, and Alec had to go and speak the truth without so much as a smile. ‘I’m sorry, that’s—’

Magnus waves a hand, and Alec’s mouth snaps shut. ‘You don’t need to apologise. I’d rather you tell a painful truth than a happy lie.’

They stay like that for a while; Alec watches Magnus with relief, wondering how and when Magnus became so patient. Magnus watches Alec with a small, fond smile and savours the blunt way in which he speaks, the way he has no real filter when it comes to affection.

Alec regains movement in his hands and he fumbles in the basket for a bit. Most of his guilt fades into a tingling warmth in his chest, half from embarrassment and half from the way Magnus is just _looking_ at him. ‘They’re unhappy. Not right now, because there’s so much to do here and they keep themselves busy. But at home they don’t… _talk_ much. They’ll talk about us or the news, but nothing about each other, y’know?’

Magnus nods.

‘Dad, he doesn’t really care—he ignores my Mom a lot anyway. Sometimes I wonder why they don’t just…I dunno, _leave_ each other.’

‘Marriage is a complicated thing,’ Magnus says, and his voice is light as he turns back to the hob. ‘For your parents, there might be more trust than love. They might want to keep you and your sister safe and watch you both grow up.’

Magnus returns humming to the radio and Alec runs Magnus’ words through his mind, because nobody’s ever put it like _that_. Nobody’s ever related his parents’ unhappiness back to him and Izzy; nobody’s ever told him it was for his benefit.

The comment hadn’t any malice in it either. Magnus didn’t say it to make Alec feel guilty; he said it to let Alec know that as long as he ends up happy and content, Maryse and Robert will be happy too.

Alec folds the shirts like clockwork and he can tell which are Magnus; they’ve had just a little more care taken in the washing. The colours are a little more vibrant than the others in the basket, but maybe that’s because everything about Magnus is eye catching and each item looks like it was made for him to wear. A red, textured button down with a high collar; a loose, olive-green shirt that probably melts against Magnus’ form.

But then Alec takes the last item from the basket in his hands and he completely freezes.

As silly as it sounds, it looks like Magnus stole the stars from the sky for it. In the dark it’s deep blue, simple and smooth, but passing it under light makes it glimmer, patterns like _constellations_ dancing across fabric.

It’s beautiful, and the off-black shirt Alec’s wearing feels like nothing more than a piece of flimsy cloth in the face of something so surreal.

Alec sighs, because he’s never going to be able to wear something like _this_ and feel _right_ in it. So he starts to put it away, lifting a hand to fold one arm into the centre of the chest, and when he looks up—

Magnus is staring at him. He’s leaning with his back against the counter and steam is pouring from the pot to his side. It’s still boiling on the element but Magnus is _staring_ at him, smiling. He’s pressing his lips together as if to hide it.

It’s the most adorable thing Alec has ever seen, but then he remembers how he’d been running his hands over Magnus’ shirt like he was skimming ancient scripture, and his cheeks burn.

‘Do you like that one?’ Magnus asks.

He takes another look at the shirt and shakes his head. ‘No, I’m— Magnus, I shouldn’t—’

And there it is. He _shouldn’t._ He shouldn’t like it because shirts like these were made for people like Magnus, elegant and beautiful and breathtaking—not for _Alec._

‘Put it on, if you’d like,’ Magnus says.

It’s a silly idea; Magnus couldn’t _possibly_ see Alec in this shirt and think of him as stunning. But Magnus is still staring, smiling, and Alec can’t take it. ‘I might be a little loose on you, but I feel like that’s your style.’    

All of Alec’s restraint disappears as he unfolds the shirt, unbuttoning the collar, and then he’s putting it on. It brushes light against his hair, sitting snug against his chest. The shoulders are a little baggy but otherwise it fits just fine.

‘So?’ Magnus says eventually, and his voice is barely there with anticipation. He’s closer now, and his eyes crinkle at the edges when Alec shakes out his shoulders and trails a hand absentmindedly across his stomach. ‘It’s…soft.’

Magnus laughs. ‘Is that a good thing?’

‘Yeah, it’s—’ Alec fiddles with the top button. He grins. ‘Yeah.’

‘It looks very nice on you, I must say.’ Magnus fixes the collar, pushing the sleeves up until they rest just at Alec’s elbows. His eyes trail up Alec’s figure and he softens, his voice a murmur and his grip loose. ‘There we are.’

‘All of your clothes are so beautiful,’ Alec blurts out. ‘I shouldn’t…This isn’t for _me_.’

Magnus exhales softly, and places a hand over Alec’s heart. ‘Do you like wearing it?’

Alec nods. He wonders if Magnus can feel the quick thumping of his chest.

‘Then it’s perfect for you. _I_ think it’s perfect for you,’ Magnus says, and presses his thumb to the dip of Alec’s collarbone. ‘We can look for something different later on, if you’d like. I have a lot of shirts I don’t wear that would look quite gorgeous on you.’

‘Thank you,’ Alec says and means it. Magnus moves closer, looking at Alec like he’s waiting for something—

When Alec gets the message he pulls Magnus down, a hand on his arm. Alec’s still sitting in the dining chair and Magnus is still standing, but then their lips meet and neither of them really care about the technicalities.

Magnus steps between Alec’s thighs as Alec’s hands move to his waist, dipping under fabric and staying there, scorching hot and deadly. It’s a perfect moment and Magnus wants a dozen more; framed in the golden light from the kitchen window, their lips moving lazy and slow, Alec in one of Magnus’ favourite shirts.

Alec pushes back against the wooden bars of the chair and Magnus takes the space, bends a leg at the knee and presses it into Alec’s thigh for stability if nothing else. The small moan Alec breathes into his mouth, then and there, is merely an added bonus.

But then Alec seems to—he _laughs_ against Magnus’ lips, a clumsy thing, and pulls back.  

‘Magnus, um,’ he says, and Magnus’ eyes flutter open. ‘The pasta?’

Magnus’ eyes widen and he spins back around to the stove, reaching blindly for Alec and only moving when a hand curls around his own. He pouts at the pot where their food is stuck to it but Alec just laughs, holding onto Magnus’ waist and swaying them gently from side to side.

The pasta is burnt in the end, and no amount of sauce can undo the damage. He and Alec still eat it, knees pressed together where they sit on the couch, so at least the company’s delightful.

 

* * *

 

Magnus kisses Alec where the sand is still warm from the evening sun, even though it’s dark now; the sea and the sky have melted into one being and the combination should be something deadly, where all you can hear are the rocking waves and all you can see is a navy backdrop. But the two of them are shadows in moonlight, pressed hip to hip with hands gripping hair and palms sliding down chests like they’re each other’s lock and key.

Magnus backs them up toward the water and lets it lap over his ankles, grinning against Alec’s lips when the other boy makes a noise in the back of his throat at the sudden dip in temperature, surprised and giddy. It doesn’t faze him though, because then his hands are sliding down to Magnus’ thighs, gripping them and pulling them up to his waist. Magnus’ hand finds the nape of Alec’s neck, nails digging into skin as his ankles join around the hard curve of Alec’s back.

Of course, it only takes about ten seconds for Alec to trip from their combined weight and stumble to his knees in the icy water, but that’s all part of his charm.

They climb out eventually, walking hand-in-hand up onto the beach where their bags lie next to a half-full bottle of champagne, something Magnus had paid for after charming the bartender into not asking for his ID. They scrub at the sand stuck to their ankles and the salt in their hair until Alec flops down onto the ground and pulls Magnus with him.

The stars are brighter tonight, Alec notes. Maybe it’s because he’s happy with Magnus’ warmth pressed into him, the way Magnus keeps leaving sloppy kisses against his pulse point and shoulder and collarbone. Maybe it’s the way their mouths meet and everything becomes a little heated and demanding, more _needy,_ but it never really escalates. Maybe it’s the way they push and pull until they’re left gasping for breath.

Alec gives Magnus a piggyback up the hill’s winding path. The sky’s a little lighter when they get back, as if the sun’s rising: hell, maybe it is. Maybe it’s been days and they never noticed.

Magnus climbs through his window and kisses Alec from behind the windowsill, hand poised on the glass. He wants nothing more than for Alec to stay but he never gets to ask: Alec’s gone, and Magnus watches him close his window with a thud from across the complex.

Alec falls asleep in damp clothes, his hair rough and gritty to touch. Izzy gives him a knowing look when he stumbles in for breakfast and laughs when Maryse compliments the deep turquoise silk of his shirt and its beaded neckline, asking where he bought it.

 

* * *

 

Alec’s bag is open on his bed and he’s scared it’ll burn him if he touches it.

He isn’t very sure if Magnus’ presence would help at all; it’d probably just be a reminder of what he’s losing. Each shirt tucked away with a memory, each jacket with a kiss, bundles of socks reminding him of strong arms hugging him for all the times he’s missed out.

Magnus makes him feel deserving—there’s something he needs and hasn’t gotten, but he’s damn sure he’ll get it. That kind of feeling. Lightning in his veins.

This summer brought Alec to Magnus but now he’s leaving, and letters and texts can’t compensate. They don’t make him feel better. They should make him feel some sort of relief, but he’s a stubborn fool with a heart too big for his chest and Magnus occupies every inch of the space.

The room’s bare once he’s done and Alec hates it. The balcony doors stay shut. Maryse stays outside on the grass just a little longer than usual, her wine glass half-full, and Alec can tell that she wants to stay too.

Maybe he’ll move here when he’s older. Buy an apartment in the city, learn the language, become a part of something.

(The dream doesn’t feel right if Magnus isn’t in it. He decides to keep it quiet.)

Izzy comes to check on him before she sleeps; she’s smiling but it’s forced, mouth turning down when she thinks Alec can’t see. It’s a tragedy to realize that the Lightwoods always get their happiness taken away before they can enjoy it.

‘He said he’ll write,’ Izzy reminds him, and presses the lightest of kisses into his hair for reassurance.

‘It’s not enough,’ he whispers, and Izzy adjusts the slanted mirror on the wall before she leaves.

There’s food still in the fridge. It’s like they’d planned for a miracle, the way they bought and bought like they were actually going to stay; like Robert doesn’t have a job and Izzy doesn’t have a life and Alec has something to lose. Maryse tells him to go to bed early but he packs and unpacks his bags, looks under the bed for discarded socks and broken sunglasses, reopens each drawer to make sure nothing’s there.

Movement ceases upstairs and Izzy turns her light off. Alec changes in the bathroom, runs water over his face three times as if to forget the way Magnus holds him with such fragility, like he’s something precious and beautiful and loved.

He pours a glass of the wine Magnus introduced to him, the only wine he’s ever liked, and goes back to his room.

Magnus is leaning over the window rail when he walks in. Alec watches him try and fail to smile, nodding consent before Magnus hops over the railing. For the first time in weeks they’re silent. There’s nothing to say and nothing to hope towards, so Alec takes in every inch of Magnus’ face until he’s sure he won’t forget it.

Alec sits on the bed and the covers feel like sandpaper. He puts down his drink on the nightstand and tosses his bag off the bed with just a little too much force to make it seem accidental.

There’s movement behind him as the mattress dips. Magnus’ arms wind around Alec’s stomach. Alec reaches for one of Magnus’ hands, presses a kiss to the back of it. ‘I don’t want to go.’

‘I don’t want you to leave,’ Magnus whispers. He tightens his grip. ‘But we knew this was going to happen.’

‘That doesn’t mean I want it to.’

‘Alexander,’ Magnus sighs, in that special way he does. ‘This…this isn’t the _end_.’

‘How is it not?’ Alec asks. He turns around in Magnus’ arms and he wants to unpack his bag again, check the closet, go through all the drawers.

‘I don’t believe in fate, but I believe that a chance at happiness is something we sorely deserve.’ Magnus smiles. ‘I’m not quite ready to let you go.’

‘What if it doesn’t work out?’ Alec asks.

Magnus exhales, cupping Alec’s cheek. ‘I don’t know.’

Alec scoffs. ‘I thought you were supposed to have all the answers.’

‘If only, darling,’ Magnus murmurs, and then he’s pulling Alec against him by the fabric of his shirt and tucking his head against Alec’s neck.

Alec deflates entirely in Magnus’ arms, reaching for skin and fabric and jewellery and gripping to it. He runs a hand through Magnus’ hair, soft and freshly-washed.

‘I can’t go back to being this—’ He pauses, swallowing. ‘This _false version_ of myself. I was never like this before.’

Magnus lifts his head. ‘What’s different now?’

Alec takes a moment to think. But then—

‘I think I’ve realised who I’m supposed to be,’ he says. After a moment, he smiles. ‘I’ve never felt this… _right,_ before.’

‘Nobody’s going to take that away from you,’ Magnus says, and he almost makes Alec believe it. ‘And you’re not undoing any progress by going home, okay?’

Alec nods, a little disbelieving. His eyes drop to his lap. ‘Can you stay?’

‘I can risk an hour or two, if you set an alarm,’ Magnus says, and pulls Alec back on the bed after the two-hour window had been set. He lies them down on the pillows, a tangle of limbs and messy hair and wrinkled shirts. Noses touching, they breathe in each other’s atmosphere.

‘Wake me up before you go,’ Alec says, and closes his eyes, hand gripping Magnus’ side like it’s all that’s keeping him still.

Magnus drops a kiss to Alec’s hairline and doesn’t sleep until Alec’s breathing evens out.

 

* * *

 

Alec empties the wine bottle into the sink before they leave. He never finishes his glass. He watches Magnus’ window when the car pulls away at dawn.

 


	2. AUGUST—JANUARY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tell me you love me,_ Alec thinks.  
>  ‘I’ll write,’ Magnus says. He disappears across the yard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so............it's been 9 months! here's 20k for your troubles! plot development happens, it's very exciting.
> 
> all my love goes to [em](http://alecsgideon.tumblr.com) for beta'ing, ur an actual living angel!!
> 
> (also if any of you wanna do a livetweet or whatevs you can tag me on twitter [@plutojiminie](http://twitter.com/plutojiminie) or on tumblr [@maqbane](http://maqbane.tumblr.com)!!! it'll make me v happy!!)

‘Alexander.’ 

Alec blinks the sleep from his eyes. There’s sunlight pressing against the curtains and it turns the room yellow. He feels a hand on his thigh, thumb moving soft. Magnus isn’t meeting his eyes. ‘People are waking up.’

‘Oh,’ Alec says, instead of something silly like  _ I don’t care.  _ He wants to say  _ let them find us,  _ but he knows he’s being dumb. He sits up.

The window’s already open—how long has Magnus been awake? How long has he been waiting?

Alec rubs his palms together until Magnus grabs his wrist and stills the movement. His fingers shake. Alec looks down.

When did it come to this? Why does it feel like they’re mourning? 

There’s a pause. Alec lifts his eyes and—

Oh. 

_ Oh. _

Magnus is holding his ring,  _ the  _ ring, between two fingers. He presses it into the middle of Alec’s open palm.

‘I want you to—’ He clears his throat, eyes on the corner of the room. ‘Keep this for me. Go on living your life and give this to somebody who you want to stay in it.’

_ Even if it isn’t me,  _ Alec hears.

‘You said this wasn’t the end,’ Alec murmurs, confused, and Magnus cups his cheek. 

‘We don’t know,’ Magnus admits, and hugs him. His heartbeat’s erratic under Alec’s hand. ‘We don’t know.’

Alec tucks his face into Magnus' neck. ‘Please don’t leave.’

He knows he’s being silly. This was always gonna be the outcome.

Magnus runs a hand through Alec’s hair. ‘I’ll write, yeah?’ 

‘That’s not enough,’ Alec murmurs, and Magnus nods—he knows.

Magnus kisses him before standing, a gentle thing, and they don’t touch. Alec finds himself frozen where he sits. Magnus moves to the window and Alec doesn’t protest. He doesn’t really remember how to.

They don’t say anything, for a while.

_ Tell me you love me,  _ Alec thinks.

‘I’ll write,’ Magnus says. He disappears across the yard.

  
  
  


**AUGUST—JANUARY**

 

“& before you live  
you must remember that night  
is always falling somewhere  
in the world. Someday autumn  
could be just another hole  
that winter empties into.

Remember me for this hunger  
I brought you into. That your warm  
body has never lived  
without me.”

 

— Michael Wasson, “Prenatal”

 

* * *

Magnus writes Alec letters. Each one is a spiral of confession. He makes his days poetic. He writes about the week he spent alone after Alec went home, but he doesn’t mention how it felt to grieve for a ghost. Grieve for somebody who isn’t  _ here.  _ Somebody who, all things considered, is existing less and less.

He sends the letters off as soon as they’re written, all cursive and perfect signatures. He scrawls his initials on the flap of the envelope, just so Alec’s sure. He drops off the first one on a cloudy August morning and the others soon follow.

The letters take priority over the colleges he’s trying for. He hides papers in the folds of his prospectuses and in his notebooks in class.

He waits for a reply, and his eagerness eats into September. When nothing arrives he sends one more and double-checks the address. 

The seasons change. He melts into his school routine. If he really tries he can feel breath against his neck; he sees black hair and tired eyes staring back at him, a burning sweetness against his lips.

 

* * *

 

Alec wonders if Magnus ever planned to stay. 

It’s been two months. September’s chill has settled in near end of August, this year; he bundles a scarf around his neck inside the house and not one letters slips through the door. He’s worn the ring all this time and it feels like it’s losing its value.

Maryse says she hasn’t found any letters for him, again. He can’t stop asking, but he sees the frustrated line in her brow, because he won’t tell her what exactly the letters  _ are. _ Robert walks in on their conversation and his eyes follow Alec across the room. They don’t think anything of it.

Alec finds himself sitting by the slot in the door on an occasional Saturday morning, a book in his hand and his thoughts far away.

‘How’s Magnus?’ Izzy asks, saying it like it’s smalltalk. She doesn’t lift her head from the book in her lap.

‘I don’t know.’ At that, Izzy looks up. ‘I haven’t gotten anything yet.’

She sits up proper, dog-earing her page and hiding her concern. ‘He’s probably busy. You shouldn’t worry too much.’ 

‘It’s just—’ Alec slumps, rubbing his hands together in his lap. ‘He promised, you know?’

Izzy gives him a smile before hopping off the couch, dropping cross-legged to the floor in front of him. She props her chin up in her hand. ‘Don’t try to act like he’s happy with this situation. He’d visit you if he had the chance, and you know it.’ 

She meets his eyes. ‘Don’t lose that, Alec.’  

‘I only knew him for a month,’ Alec mutters.

‘I know that.’ Izzy stands up, retreating back to her couch. ‘Just…don’t treat a month like nothing, okay?’

Alec nods. His hands still. ‘What would you do, Iz?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ 

School starts back and it rolls around like a fever. Maia, Simon and Aline don’t comment on his absence in the summer but their concern lingers, all the same. He tries to keep up with them, new inside jokes and nicknames.

They ask what he did over summer and he gives the shortest of summaries. He doesn’t mention Magnus. When they ask about his ring, he says he bought it for himself—it’s a half-truth, he supposes, and he sticks by it.  

Eventually Simon asks him why he’s been quiet; the bus is half an hour late and they’re tucked into the stairway. Alec fumbles over his words because he thought he’d always been like that, a little quieter than the rest.

(Maybe lovesick silence is just more noticeable. Maybe there’s just something about the way he smiles until he doesn’t have to, or the way he twirls the ring on his finger like it’s always been there.)  

He’ll tell Simon someday. He just needs to keep this to himself a little longer.

 

* * *

 

Magnus’ head is tipped back on the armrest and the leather is cool against his skin. He folds one arm over his chest and the other brushes against the floor. He’s too long for the couch, always has been, and his feet stick out at the end.

It’s sunny outside today, and light pours in through the gossamer curtains where they’re pulled halfway shut. Summer never really leaves, here, but you can tell that there’s a chill in the air that nobody mentions. You can feel autumn slowly plunge into winter. It’s not even October yet, but it’s colder than last year.

Catarina’s on the opposite couch. Her biology textbook is open next to her while her notebook sits in her lap. She holds a pen to her mouth in thought, tapping at her bottom lip. The TV goes on standby and Cat looks over at Magnus while she turns it back on. She raises an eyebrow. He sighs.

‘I went to Lagoa in the summer,’ Magnus begins, eyes on the ceiling. Catarina nods while she writes. ‘There was…a boy.’

Cat looks up. 

‘A boy.’

Magnus hums, fingers rubbing together where they lie on his chest. ‘His name’s Alexander. We stayed at the same complex.’

‘And where is he now?’

Magnus purses his lips, smiling, embarrassed. ‘Uh— Brooklyn?’ 

He startles when Catarina slams her book shut. She remains still, hand still poised around the spine. ‘I can’t believe this.’

‘What?’

‘You’re here because you’re  _ heartbroken?’  _ Cat asks, nearly laughing. ‘You’re upset over a boy you knew for, what, two weeks?’

_ A month,  _ Magnus almost says, but it wouldn’t do him any good. 

Cat twirls her pen in her hand. Magnus smiles, soft. ‘He’s wonderful, Cat. Better than anyone I could find around here. I’ll wait for him.’

There’s a pause.

Cat’s eyes find the curtains where they curve against the window sill. ‘What if he doesn’t want to wait for you?’

‘I write him letters. He asked me to.’

‘Does he write back?’ She asks, flicking through her notebook. She won’t meet his eyes.

Maybe she doesn’t want to break his spirit.

‘Not yet.’ He shifts on the sofa, head tilting back over the armrest. He feels himself go lightheaded.

Cat sighs. She starts writing again, eyes shifting from one book to another. ‘You should be focusing on schoolwork, Magnus, not your boy troubles.’

‘Can’t I focus on both?’ 

She smirks, looking at him through her lashes. ‘No, you can’t. I’ve seen you like this before—the only difference was you could pine for them in public.’

‘It wasn’t like  _ this _ ,’ Magnus insists, throwing his arms out. 

‘You may not remember, but you said that every time.’ She looks over at him. ‘You never come to me with romance queries, but it’s been quite exhausting. I’ll have to send Dot a bouquet for all her troubles.’

Magnus rolls his eyes, toeing off his boots and listening as they hit the light wooden floor. ‘I would’ve mentioned that I’d come to talk about my  _ troubles _ sooner if I knew it bothered you.’

‘That’s a lie,’ Catarina drawls, ‘because you knew that I would’ve slammed the door in your face.’

Magnus grins. He drops his hands into his lap and fiddles with a cushion tassel near his thigh. ‘Will you listen anyway?’

Cat pauses.

‘Fine,’ she sighs, suddenly smiling. ‘But I can’t believe anything you say about this boy until I see him with my own two eyes _. _ ’

‘Fair.’

She raises an eyebrow. Magnus takes that as his cue.

‘He’s  _ beautiful _ , Cat—’ 

Cat groans, reaching forward to grab her glass. ‘Where did you meet him?’

Magnus hums, eyes fluttering closed. ‘By the pool.’

Catarina snorts. ‘Oh, how  _ romantic.’  _ She settles back down into the couch. ‘How did you manage to win him over?’

Magnus waves a hand. ‘My usual charm can work on just about anybody.’

Cat pauses, tipping her head. She starts grinning. ‘Something tells me Magnus Bane got a little lovestruck.’

‘He may have said his favourite thing about the vacation was me.’ 

Cat laughs, then. ‘Oh, god,’ she murmurs, shaking her head. ‘He’s going to break your heart, love.’

Magnus shrugs. ‘I don’t think he will.’

‘You were with him for  _ two weeks, _ ’ Cat reminds Magnus, and glares when he mutters  _ a month  _ under his breath. ‘Now you’re moping on my couch, longing for what could have been. It’s going to happen.’

Magnus opens his eyes then, turning to watch Cat with a furrowed brow. ‘You don’t trust him.’

‘Of course I don’t trust him, Magnus.’ Her hands drop to her lap, frustrated. ‘I don’t know him.  _ You  _ don’t know him, either.’

‘I know enough to want more time, Cat.’

His words hang in the air. He almost holds his breath. Cat’s his best friend, the one he loves most—her approval is a must.

After an eternity, she sighs. ‘When you ship off to Brooklyn in search of your Alexander, do bring me along.’

Magnus smiles. ‘Why would I do that?’ 

‘I’ve always wanted to see the promenade,’ Catarina says. She smiles, catching Magnus' eye. ‘Plus somebody has to bring you back home, lest you forget.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he murmurs. ‘I’d never stay.’

Catarina hums, disbelieving, before reaching for her notebook again. 

 

* * *

 

The whole family’s away—Robert and Maryse working, Izzy out with Clary, the cool breeze of October finally settling in—when Alec finds the letters; all six of them, pressed flush against the dark, forgotten corner of a cupboard nearest to the fridge. He almost misses them, his fingers curling against nothing while searching for painkillers and coming up empty. But then, among unopened advertisements and scrunched up receipts, his nails scratch against smooth white paper. The letters  _ MB _ are pressed into each one.

(Alec doesn’t know what the  _ B  _ stands for yet, but he likes to believe it’s something godly; he wants to know Magnus' surname solely to add it to his own. He wants to feel Magnus there when he’s not, a double-barrelled schoolboy promise that he can scrawl over notebook covers and hide in love hearts.)

He tears open each letter with a butterknife and pulls out folded pages, off-white, and grips  them to his chest so tight that he may just break a rib. He puts the envelopes back where he found them, escaping to his room on shaky legs, laughing with shock. He drops down onto the bed after locking the door and runs a thumb over the folded corners.

Magnus is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing Alec has ever seen. But his writing, oh—this gorgeous, looping print is something Alec wants tattooed behind his eyelids. He wants it pressed into every inch of his skin and dotted along his veins.

_ Magnus Bane,  _ he ends with, and it feels right. It’s fitting—a prince with a name to suit.

Alec tears a sheet from his notebook.  _ Magnus,  _ he writes, and continues until his fingers ache.

 

* * *

 

_ It’s 1:03 a.m. _

_ Alec’s very sure of it, because he’s been checking the time ever since he arrived. This moment is one he’s been waiting for all day and now, finally, it’s here. With lukewarm water rolling against his hips, the moon overhead, and sleep pressing heavy against his eyes, he finds himself waiting for Magnus. _

_ Magnus—who insisted with a wink and a grin that they shouldn’t see each other all day, just so their reunion would be that much sweeter. Magnus, who had kissed Alec’s cheek and let it linger before they parted the day before. _

_ Alec knows he’s being ridiculous, expecting Magnus to show up as the clock strikes one, but Alec  _ misses  _ him.  _

_ Things have gotten risky lately. Robert’s eyes tend to linger on him a little longer when he passes, but Alec can’t figure out what he knows. He’ll accept his and Izzy’s excuses with just a hint of disbelief while Maryse watches on with concern. _

_ Alec wants to tell Maryse everything. A couple of times, he almost has—a near-slip of the tongue when nobody else has been around. Of the two, she’s the most understanding. She wouldn’t be one to freak out. _

_ But Alec can’t tell her yet. Not now. He wants to live his rose-coloured dream just a little longer. _

_ There’s a shadow, then. It moves along the pavement and darkens the water. Alec smiles, looking down at his hands on the pavement. He doesn’t turn around. _

_ Water laps before a hand finds its way to Alec’s side. Magnus presses flush against Alec’s back, head ducked into his neck. His arms wrap around Alec’s stomach. _

_ ‘It’s late,’ Magnus whispers into Alec’s skin, smiling as he does so. His hair is loose, falling into his face, and it tickles Alec’s jaw. _

_ ‘I missed you,’ Alec says. He lifts a hand and curls it around Magnus' where they join at his front. He decides that he has done his waiting; another minute away from Magnus will be torture. _

_ ‘I hoped so,’ Magnus hums, pressing a kiss to Alec’s shoulder. They sway in the water and it moves around them like a barrier. ‘I brought you something.’ _

_ ‘Really?’  _

_ He feels Magnus pull away, kicking away from the wall. Alec turns to watch him move. _

_ Something catches his eye, then; hidden in the darkness near the ladder, there’s a box. A basket, maybe, filled with bags and bottles and—  _

_ Ah. _

_ ‘Did you make us a picnic?’ _

_ ‘You could say that,’ Magnus smiles. He plants his feet on the tiles in the shallow end and makes waves with his hands. ‘I have to repay you for that ring, lest you forget.’ _

_ ‘Well, thank you,’ Alec says, approaching him. ‘I appreciate it.’ _

_ He pulls Magnus closer with steady hands to his hips. Magnus cards fingers through his hair. _

_ ‘I assume our day apart wasn’t terribly traumatic, then?’  _

_ Magnus grins as Alec sighs, dropping his head to Magnus’ shoulder. He presses a kiss to the skin there, voice muffled. ‘Yeah, I lived through it.’ _

_ ‘That’s good,’ Magnus murmurs. He pulls back. ‘Food?’ _

_ They pull themselves up from the pool onto the concrete edge, reaching for towels. Magnus ruffles his hair with it as he rounds the pool’s edge, grabbing the basket handles and dragging it over. Alec sits cross legged, his towel underneath him. _

_ ‘Y’know what I love about it here?’ He begins, later in the night. He’s back near the pool, kicking at the water. Magnus is messing with his hand where it lies against the pavement, drawing patterns on his palms and kissing his knuckles. ‘It’s the middle of the night, yeah, but we can pretend the sun’s still up. It’s warm enough for it.’ _

_ ‘I’m pretty sure that would only ever benefit us,’ Magnus notes, meeting Alec’s eyes with a smile. ‘Most people don’t have picnics at one in the morning.’ _

_ ‘It’s better than nothing.’ _

_ ‘What could better than this?’ Magnus hums, and shifts closer. They press together, shoulder to shoulder. ‘What would you want  _ better  _ to look like?’ _

_ ‘Hm.  _

_ He thinks about it—he does. There’s an image in his mind that won’t stray, something he’s thought about a dozen times before, and he nudges Magnus to get his attention.  _

_ ‘You and me in a restaurant somewhere,’ he admits. ‘In front of people, during the day. I think that’s the dream.’ _

_ He tries to make it sound funny. It doesn’t work. He just sounds nervous, waiting for the worst. _

_ Magnus watches him for a moment. He nods before he speaks, voice quiet. Contemplative. ‘Sounds very ordinary.’ _

_ Alec worries that he’s ruined things. _

_ ‘Maybe something ordinary would do us good,’ he murmurs, and his voice doesn’t shake. Magnus has taken to staring, body angled toward him. Alec takes his and Magnus' joined hands, resting them on his knee. _

_ ‘You want something mundane, hm?’ Magnus murmurs, eyebrows raised. He looks back at the basket. ‘I happened to bring some very ordinary food, if that’s a good substitute.’ _

_ Whatever Alec had been planning on saying dies in his throat. He laughs instead, quiet and unexpected, and Magnus does the same. _

_ You’re an idiot,’ Alec scoffs, voice gentle, moving forward to kiss Magnus anyway. It’s slow, and achingly familiar. Magnus smiles when they pull away. Alec kisses him on the cheek. ‘Thank you for the food.’ _

_ Alec grabs strawberries, already washed, and empties them into a bowl. He busies himself by plucking off the stems. _

_ ‘Hey,’ Magnus says, taking one from the bowl. ‘We should go to the beach tomorrow.’ _

_ ‘The beach?’  _

_ ‘The water’s nicer than—’ Magnus splashes at the pool water— ‘this. Plus, we can be alone. No windows or spying eyes.’ _

_ It’s a tempting offer. Magnus knows it just as well, an eyebrow raised. _

_ ‘I’ll think about it,’ Alec says, but they both know what he means. A  _ yes  _ sits on the tip of his tongue.  _

_ He leans forward, water dripping down his temple. ‘Will the sun still be out?’ _

_ ‘Alexander, it’s like you don’t know me at all.’ Magnus laughs before he kisses Alec, strawberries and lemonade on his tongue. _

 

* * *

 

Magnus settles into October—Alec has been silent for three months. Red-gold leaves are scattered along the pavements, and sometimes it rains. Everything feels a little dim. Magnus dyes his hair again. 

The decision feels unconscious. He’s been missing the streaks in his hair and some change is in order, anyway. He finds himself watching the bathroom mirror and looking for colour that isn’t there, absent like the ring he’d gotten used to.

Standing in the bathroom, a bowl of crimson dye in one hand, he considers that maybe Cat was right.

Maybe he and Alec were just a stroke of luck, a fire doomed to burn out. Maybe letters were never going to work. Maybe he should’ve known.

Part of Magnus wonders if he’d been too forward. Maybe when Alec mentioned letters, it had been wishful thinking—the thought mattering more than the action. Maybe he just wanted Magnus to think about him every once in a while.

But Alec— he’s stubborn, and Magnus knows it. He wants what he wants, and Magnus can’t imagine any scenario where Alec would look at love and hide from it. 

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe he doesn’t know Alec as well as he thought, but that’s okay; that, they can fix.

But until he and Alec get around to fixing it, until Alec gets around to reading everything that Magnus has spent damned  _ hours  _ writing—well, streaks in his hair will do the job. 

 

* * *

 

Alec looks up when Izzy clicks her fingers. His vision’s a little fuzzy from focusing on the page in his lap—he has to have read it about a hundred times by now. Izzy’s watching him. His parents are gone, but he never noticed them leaving the room; music blares from the TV instead of the news. 

Alec furrows his brows in question. Izzy nods at his lap. ‘Can I see it?’

He glances down at the letter. He almost says  _ no,  _ but she’s his sister, so he hands it over. It feels like a betrayal of confidence to do so.

She retreats back to her armchair with the letter in her hands, feet curled up under her. Alec watches her. She physically slumps two sentences in.

‘I want to get pretty love letters,’ she whines, and Alec finds himself laughing. ‘Are you gonna write back?’

‘Of course,’ Alec says. ‘I just dunno what I should say. Nothing comes out right.’

Izzy scoffs. 

‘Write about  _ anything _ , Alec,’ she says, and rolls her eyes. ‘He just wants  _ you. _ He wants you to talk to him—I don’t think he’ll care what you say.’

She’s right. 

He watches the ceiling, sunlight spreading across the plaster.

‘Do you miss him?’ she asks, and well—Alec can’t lie. 

‘Yeah.’ He clears his throat.  _ It’s strange to say it out loud.  _ ‘I think so. It’s just so…different. Different to how I thought it’d all go.’

‘There’s no  _ one way _ to fall in love, Alec.’ Izzy runs a finger across the page. ‘People change. Nothing’s ever set in stone.’

Alec wonders when she got so wise.

‘He’s more than I ever thought I’d get,’ he admits. ‘It’s…nice. It’s really good.’

‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ she tells him, smiling. ‘If you took this for granted, I’d kick your ass.’ 

She wanders over to Alec, grabbing a different letter. Her expression goes soft after a few lines. 

‘God, look at this—’ She waves the page in Alec’s direction. ‘‘ _ I wonder if you have that impact on everyone you meet, Alexander. I wonder if everyone realises you’ll always be the brightest thing in every room.’ _ How romantic is that?’

Alec nearly lets himself smile because  _ god,  _ he thinks so too, but instead— 

‘Gimme that,’ he grumbles. Izzy laughs as she slides it across the floor, and he holds it close to his chest. ‘He’s much more romantic in person.’

‘I can only imagine,’ Izzy murmurs, and wiggles her eyebrows. He rolls his eyes, and tries not to think about how…strange, this is. Talking about these things with Izzy and not being embarrassed. The feeling’s new, and he’s almost revelling in it.

She leans back on the couch, stretching out. She nods down at Alec’s hand where it grazes the floor. ‘That suits you, by the way.’

He follows her gaze to the ring. His face goes warm as he rises from the couch. 

Alec sends his first letter on a sunnier-than-normal afternoon in November, and it feels like the progress he never realized he had to make. If his hand is a little shaky as he slides the letter through the postbox, he doesn’t think much of it. Izzy doesn’t mention it either, even though she watches as he arrives home and makes his way toward his room without as much as a  _ hello. _

 

* * *

 

_ Alec wonders how he got so lucky. _

_ Magnus' father is out somewhere—apparently he disappears for hours at a time for different business ventures, leaving Magnus in an empty house. Maryse, Robert, and Izzy are at the market, and Izzy brought a very long list of things to buy that they don’t exactly need. She winks at him before they step outside. _

_ He doesn’t need to guess who’s ringing the doorbell before he answers, hair wet from the shower, a towel in one hand. There’s only one person he wants it to be. Standing in the threshold, he holds out his hand; a softer palm slides in to take it.  _

_ There are two sofas in Magnus’ apartment, Alec discovers. One faces the TV while the other is pressed against the living room wall, closest to the kitchen. They’re as worn-down as you’d expect. _

_ Alec’s found himself on the centre sofa, cross legged and spacing out to the tune of a tennis match that’s been on since he arrived. He’s much more focused on Magnus where he occupies the other couch, head on a pillow, feet up on the armrest. He holds a book in one hand while the other cradles the back of his head, hair flopping backwards. It’s an awkward position; he has to drop the book into his lap to turn the page, but he seems happy nonetheless.  _

_ It’s all so casual. God, it’s nice. There’s absolutely nothing awkward about their silence and both of them know it. Alec can hear Magnus breathing, and there’s a radio playing in the kitchen, and Magnus smiles a little when Alec hums along. They’ve learned to enjoy their time alone.  _

_ Time—the one thing they don’t really have. _

_ Alec’s been meaning to discuss it, he has. He’s just gotten caught up in everything he thought he’d never get. He doesn’t want to wish away the one life he’s been looking forward too.  _

_ ‘Magnus?’  _

_ He runs a hand through his wet hair. Magnus looks up at him as he folds the corner of a page. Alec thinks he’s beautiful. ‘Hey.’ _

_ Magnus grins. ‘Hi.’ _

_ He breathes in, and then, ‘I think we need to talk about what we’re gonna do after this.’ _

_ Magnus stands, padding across the room to Alec and dropping down next to him on the couch.  ‘After summer?’ _

_ Alec nods. _

_ ‘Alright,’ Magnus says, voice soft. Part of him seems nervous, but he smiles despite it. He folds his legs underneath him, and he reaches for Alec’s hand. ‘Let’s talk about it.’ _

_ Alec holds it out to him. His eyes stay in his lap. ‘I live in New York. And you don’t.’ _

_ Magnus hums agreement. _

_ ‘I don’t know how…open, my parents would be,’ Alec murmurs, and Magnus squeezes his palm, ‘If they heard us talking, or if they checked my phone…I dunno. I don’t wanna risk it.’ _

_ ‘Then we won’t,’ Magnus concludes, simple as ever. He smiles. _

_ ‘Then…’ Alec meets Magnus’ eyes. ‘This is it?’ _

_ Magnus stills. He watches Alec for a moment, looking for… _ something,  _ and apparently doesn’t find it. _

_ He starts laughing.  _

_ ‘You—’ He leans forward, eyebrows furrowed. ‘You think I’ll give up on you, on us, because of complications?’ _

Maybe,  _ he almost says. ‘It’ll be a lot of effort.’ _

_ ‘The good things take effort, Alexander.’ Magnus presses a kiss to his knuckles, eyes always on him, and giddy laughter builds in Alec’s throat. ‘That includes you.’ _

_ ‘Thank you,’ Alec murmurs, face warm. ‘You’re, uh— worth the effort, too.’ _

_ ‘Happy to hear it,’ Magnus grins, eyes crinkling. ‘Now—if calling’s out of the way, what are our options?’ _

_ They look at each other for a moment. They speak at the same time. _

_ ‘Letters,’ Magnus realises. _

_ ‘Telegrams,’ Alec says, an eyebrow raised, and Magnus laughs until he can’t breathe. _

 

* * *

 

Magnus' front door clicks shut, and it’s like he sees both everything and nothing at the exact same time.

The everything comes first, of course; the everything is every noise, every soundbug in his home. The static of the TV, the bubbling of water on a stove, the whirring of air as it curves around window panes, the quiet murmur of voices on the street. He can practically smell the winter cold, sharp and painful in his lungs, scraping with every breath.

But then the nothing hits, and all of that seems to vanish. Because there’s a letter on the floor with the letters  _ AL  _ in bold print on the envelope.

And from that, Magnus knows—he  _ knows,  _ and part of him doesn’t know what to do. He feels himself freeze. 

Only for a moment, though.

His backpack nearly falls off his shoulder as he grabs the letter, damn near crumpling the thing in an iron grip, running upstairs with a  _ need _ . He drops his bag at the foot of his bed with a  _ thunk  _ and collapses down onto the covers. He opens the envelope, pulling out the haphazardly-folded letter, and starts reading the words—

_ The words.  _ The words of a poet unknown, and Magnus' hopelessness over the last few months disappears. Alec explains his situation, the hidden letters, the weary glances and snide comments from his father—he’s surrounded by people won’t let him hide.

The letter ends with a messy signature, ink smeared. He thinks a moment, letting the adrenaline die down before looking at the bottom corner of the page—at a phone number. 

Something in him almost breaks. He almost cries or screams or does  _ something  _ to alleviate the sudden pressure in his chest, the pressure that feels like love, the pressure that has him saving the number and hovering over dial—but then his father is calling him for dinner, and he leaves his phone where it is.

This is going to be something special, he knows it. He feels the energy thrum beneath his skin. But it’s not something he can rush, hidden in his room, whispering, pleading for more time. 

The future is stretching out like it’s neverending so Magnus waits, and waits, and then Friday evening arrives.

 

* * *

 

Alec’s phone rings.

When he wakes up he’s confused, first and foremost. In bleary, half-conscious thought, he can’t fathom why anything would be calling him at one in the morning. He’d only just gotten to sleep and he was  _ really  _ enjoying it, and this is completely unnecessary—

His eyes fly open, then.

He stretches to grasp the phone in his hand where it hangs off the bedside table, and it’s an unknown number calling. There’s no local area code.

And part of him  _ knows. _

His throat seems to tighten. He’d laugh if he had the air to breathe. He’d grin at the ceiling for hours if he had the time, and sleep is suddenly the last thing on his mind.

There’s only one person this could be. 

He lifts the phone to his ear. There’s a beat of silence, of disbelief, of  _ doubt. _

But then—

‘Hi.’

And it’s so…it’s just—

It’s all Alec needs. This,  _ Magnus.  _ Magnus' voice, filled with relief and longing and fear and so many other things.

And some part of Alec had expected Magnus to be the epitome of confidence, but there’s a comfort in him being the complete opposite. There’s development there. Magnus is letting Alec see past his walls. He knows, or  _ should  _ know—needs to know—that Alec will stay regardless.

(Alec wriggles off his ring and turns it over in his hand; over and over, again and again, just because he can.)

‘Hey,’ he says, breathless and quiet and barely-there. He can’t help but go silent after. They both know there are too many words to say and not enough time. Too many miles, too much distance.

‘Can we settle on the phone thing now?’ he asks, listening to Magnus breathe on the other end. ‘I love having your letters, but…’

‘Of course we can, Alexander,’ Magnus whispers. He sounds like he just came up from water; his words spill out in a sigh. ‘Of  _ course,  _ of—’

He stops. After a moment, he laughs.

‘You okay?’ Alec asks, and he instinctively leans into the phone. Outside the sky is dim, and the light from his phone casts a glow across the room and against the window. ‘Magnus?’

‘I missed you.’ Magnus sounds small. He’s quiet, and it’s the first time Alec has seen him shy. ‘It feels different, doesn’t it? Not being able to see you. Not being able to…’

‘Yeah,’ Alec says, and can’t quite figure out what’s to follow. There’s silence; the two of them breathing, thinking about what’s left to say.

‘Talk to me?’ Magnus whispers. ‘Just…talk about anything.’

‘I’m not good at this, Magnus,’ Alec says, and Magnus laughs.

‘I know,’ he says, voice light. ‘I don’t really care.’

Alec pauses.

‘That shirt,’ he finally says, and he remembers tucking it into a drawer across the room, 2nd from the bottom, hidden beneath a sweater. ‘The one you gave me. I’ve got a couple more like it, now.’

‘Oh?’

‘Bracelets like yours, too. Nicer jeans. Izzy’s impressed.’ He gets up from bed, a tangle of sheets and limbs, and roots through the dresser. He runs a thumb over the shirt’s silky fabric and takes it back over with him. ‘I think I’ve learned how to be myself, y’know?’

_ (‘Put it on, if you’d like,’ Magnus had said, all encouraging.  _

_ All of Alec’s restraint disappeared as he unfolded the shirt, unbuttoning the collar, and then he was putting it on. It brushed light against his hair, sat snug against his chest. The shoulders were a little baggy but otherwise it fitted just fine. _

_ ‘So?’ Magnus said eventually, and his voice was barely there with anticipation. He was closer now, and his eyes crinkled at the edges when Alec shook out his shoulders and trailed a hand absentmindedly across his stomach. ‘It’s…soft.’  _

_ Magnus laughed. ‘Is that a good thing?’ _

_ ‘Yeah, it’s—’ Alec fiddled with the top button. He grinned. ‘Yeah.’) _

Magnus hums. Alec drops down onto the bed, pulling at the covers. ‘Izzy read one of your letters, by the way. Thinks you’re a real flirt.’

‘I try,’ Magnus murmurs, and Alec snorts.

‘It’s really hard not to go back to how I used to be,’ he admits. ‘Especially with school—nobody really knows about me.’

‘Your safety matters more than being able to express yourself, sometimes,’ Magnus tells him, all old-age wisdom, ‘as upsetting as that is.’

‘Yeah.’ Alec swipes a hand over his eyes, pulls gently at his hair. He feels a little trapped, and the air’s a little too warm, but there’s nowhere else to go. ‘There’s this thing that happens, sometimes. I’ll be sitting here some days, and I’ll get real hopeful and imagine you walking through the door. Which is impossible, because you’re on the west coast and I’m in  _ Brooklyn,  _ so.’

‘This isn’t the end, you know,’ Magnus tells him. There’s music playing—Alec hasn’t noticed until now. ‘Here we are, talking. That’s enough for me right now.’ 

‘I guess.’ Alec sighs, and then, ‘I miss you.’

Magnus huffs, and he might be smiling. ‘I miss you, too.’

‘You’re beautiful.’ The words spill out before Alec can think. He almost apologises, but decides against it—it’s not like he’s never said it before. There’s just a little more distance now. It feels wrong on the phone. 

‘Alexander,’ Magnus breathes, and then laughs, half-giddy and music to Alec’s ears. Alec grins with the sound of it. ‘You can’t even see me. You can’t even see my  _ hair,  _ oh my—’

‘Your hair?’ Alec says. ‘What happened to your hair?’

‘I’ve just been experimenting.’ Magnus’ voice is calm, joking. ‘There’s currently…blue streaks, I believe. Dark blue. I quite like it. I haven’t really done anything new since June. I did red a while ago.’

Alec tries not to imagine it, but then he thinks of Magnus in the summer, gold streaks and rippling water. The memories make him warm. ‘Do I get to see a picture, at least?’

‘I’ll send you a polaroid in the mail,’ Magnus murmurs. Alec laughs.

There’s a pause.

‘I’m going to make Cat eat her words,’ Magnus murmurs, like he hadn’t meant to say it at all.

‘Who’s Cat?’

‘A friend that thinks you’ll break my heart,’ he sighs. ‘She wants you on the first flight over here, confessing your love.’

‘A phone call’s cheaper than a plane ticket,’ Alec notes. Magnus laughs, and they talk until both of their skies are dark and sleep calls them away.

 

* * *

 

Alec’s computer is a dilapidated thing in the corner of his room. It collects dust for weeks at a time, clunky and old and unused, but he doesn’t have the heart to get rid of it—he wishes he’d been smart and bought a laptop, like Izzy. She carries it around the house in one hand and laughs in Alec’s direction more often than not.

Maryse and Robert are working late and it’s a cold winter Friday; Izzy’s looking between hats and scarves and plans on going somewhere with Clary. He asks to use her laptop while she’s gone, and she presses it into his hands. She reminds him to get the kitchen clean before their parents get home.

He’s drying a glass when the notification rings through and echoes off the walls, and he almost drops the glass with anticipation. When he reaches for the laptop and picks up the call, Magnus is a half-blurry figure on the screen, out of frame, the bed behind him covered in books and papers. 

Alec lowers himself into frame, grinning. ‘Hey, there.’

Magnus jolts back into view then, stray curls falling into his face. ‘Alexander,’ he smiles, sounding relieved. All at once he relaxes, a hand under his chin, and he takes Alec in. ‘Missed you.’

‘Missed you too,’ Alec murmurs. He hops up from the chair he’s kneeling on, grabbing a tea towel and a washed bowl. ‘What’re you working on?’

‘Chemistry,’ Magnus says, and rolls his eyes. Alec laughs. ‘How long do we have?’

‘Two hours, maybe.’ Alec stretches to slide the wine glasses into their cabinet, and he can’t help wondering what this’d be like with Magnus  _ here. _ ‘They’ve both been working overtime lately.’

‘Do you mind it?’ Magnus asks.

Alec shrugs, and turns back to look at him. ‘Not really. They’re either working in an office or working here—there isn’t much difference.’ 

There’s a pause where Magnus just…watches him. He looks like he’s about to ask something, but it’s gone as quickly as it arrived.

‘Help me go over covalent bonding, will you?’ Magnus says instead, and Alec notices the lilt in his voice; with his back to the screen, he can nearly  _ hear _ Magnus’ grin. He sighs and walks out of view, mumbling about  _ romance is dead  _ and  _ if Magnus wanted a tutor instead of a boyfriend, he only had to ask,  _ and he hears Magnus cackle something wild.

 

* * *

 

It’s raining when Alec’s phone buzzes against his thigh. The streets outside are loud, crowded, people bustling with umbrellas and briefcases shielding their heads, and Alec watches them move from out the window. He can hear Maryse downstairs, voice loud and Robert’s rising to meet it. Izzy’s out with Clary, and Alec stays here—he has college  prospectuses laid out around the bed, a pen and notepad to jot things down. An empty plate or two hang halfway off the dresser on the other side of the room, and music drowns out the sounds of rain against the ceiling.

He takes his phone in his hand, biting at the end of his pen. 

There’s a picture. Magnus in sunlight. There’s a pool in front of him that sparkles with reflections, and four sun loungers sit around it. There are green trees and yellow flowers and a pink-orange sky and at the forefront, there’s Magnus. He’s in shorts, navy and thigh-length and tied at the waist, and there’s a flowy shirt that presses into his arms and chest. The top few buttons lie open; his rings glint in the light. He’s been caught looking away from the camera, a half-formed smirk on his face, an arm stretched out and leaning on his bent knee. His hand dangles, lifeless and elegant.

And then, just—his hair. It’s grown out now, compared to the clean, fresh cut of the summer. It’s been spiked up, and where Alec remembers gold, there’s dark blue glittering in the light. A cuff curls around his ear. 

He’s beautiful; more beautiful than Alec thinks should be allowed. Living through storm-soaked Brooklyn means freedom is some unknown thing, and he wonders what it’d be like to feel the winter sun on his skin. He wonders what it’s like to never leave summer behind.

_ happy november,  _ lies beneath the picture, and when Alec imagines Magnus ripping his phone back from Catarina’s hands, he wishes her a silent thanks. _ call tonight? x _

_ of course x,  _ Alec texts back, and he means it like a flood; without struggle, all at once.

 

* * *

 

Alec calls, this time. There’s some club that Izzy, Clary and Simon have gone to try and sneak into—a place with smoke and booming music and  _ lots  _ of beer, so he gives them all a stern talking-to before they disappear out the door, their screams of excitement echoing down the lane. He steals Izzy's laptop from where its charging and this time it’s Alec that’s working, watching TV with a notebook in his lap. For a moment, when Magnus appears, all Alec can hear is the whirring of a stove fan, the bubbling of water, and music from somewhere nearby. He makes a noise of surprise before lowering the volume.

‘Sorry! Sorry,’ Magnus shouts over the clatter. He hurries around the place, shutting off the fan and quieting the music until the background noise is all but a buzz. He returns to the screen and smiles at Alec, big and bright and  _ beautiful _ . ‘Evening.’

‘Evening,’ Alec says, and his smile goes lopsided and affectionate. He leans on his hands and his eyes crinkle. They talk while Magnus cleans, and Alec fixes each dog-eared page of his hardback, rewriting his notes in colour. The sound of the TV blurs into the background as Magnus hums a tune Alec doesn’t know, eventually sitting down with a plate and a glass. 

They talk about school; the differences in their classes, friends, personalities. Magnus talks about Catarina and Alec can hear the affection in his voice; he talks about Dot and Raphael, what he wants to do when he’s older— _science,_ he says, all excitement, _science and nothing else—_ and how the weather’s always nicer in winter. And then Alec talks about his life with his family, with Izzy knowing and the others oblivious; he talks about Maia and Simon and Clary, about how he doesn’t know _what_ he’s supposed to be doing with his life, and gestures to the books around him for effect.

‘The letter you wrote was beautiful,’ Magnus says, suggestive. He raises an eyebrow. ‘Maybe you can expand on that.’

Alec cocks his head.

‘A  _ writer,  _ Alexander,’ Magnus laughs, and rolls his eyes with affection. ‘An author, maybe. You can tell your stories. You can write about all this.’

‘You and me?’

‘I bet it’ll be a page-turner,’ he says, and the two laugh against the backdrop of police sirens and late-night TV. 

Talking to Magnus has always been so simple; less complicated than the people in his school and he loves it. Going back to school and getting caught up in rumours and gossip and meaningless conversations is almost painful, when he knows there is someone who doesn’t mind self-expression a million miles away.

But at some point, something in Magnus’ face changes. Maybe it’s the dark screen from the setting sun, or the way he’s texting Cat one moment and smiling at Alec the next, but he seems to tense up a little. Not with discomfort, no, but with— anticipation.

‘You okay?’ Alec asks, eventually, jolting Magnus back to reality with a smile and a gentle question. Magnus sits up a little more, clasping his hands and then shaking them out, and he pushes his phone away from him on the table. Anxiety burns like an acid in Alec’s gut for reasons unknown.

‘So,’ Magnus begins, and his eyes light up as he says it. ‘Alexander.’

‘Magnus.’

‘My father’s a businessman,’ Magnus says. ‘He travels a lot.’

Alec waits for the punchline, but it doesn’t come. He makes a noise of confusion.

‘Where will you be on New Year’s Eve?’ Magnus asks, instead. Alec feels himself freeze. 

Oh.  _ No, _ he’s—

No. He can’t be asking this. He  _ can’t,  _ Magnus needs to stop getting his hopes up _ —  _

‘Magnus,’ he warns, nervous about the words Magnus won’t say, eyes in his lap.

‘Because I’ll be close to Brooklyn,’ Magnus continues, and Alec finds it in himself to look up. ‘I’ll be locked up in a hotel for a working week. I’d like to make something of it, at least.’

Alec shakes his head. ‘You’re a liar. Don’t lie to me.’

‘I’d never do such a thing.’ Magnus leans forward, chin against his palm. ‘Come see me while I’m there?’

And—  _ oh.  _ This is actually happening. 

Alec starts laughing. He doesn’t really know what else to do, and he shocks Magnus into laughing too. He covers his face with his hands and takes a moment to breathe, giddiness bubbling up his throat. 

‘We’re doing this,’ Alec realises, words muffled behind his palms. ‘You’re gonna be here.’

‘We’re doing this,’ Magnus repeats, and he seems just as surprised.

‘God, New Year’s is too far away,’ Alec whines, and he realises his notebook has fallen to the floor. He can’t find it in himself to pick it up.

‘The days add up. Before you know it, we’ll be together.’ Magnus smiles at him, going to eat and grimacing. He drops the fork. ‘Dammit, I need to—’

Magnus brings his cold plate of food over to the microwave, forgotten through the conversation.  Alec grins at the wall, so happy he could cry. 

‘I’m gonna write,’ Alec says suddenly. Magnus turns around, and his smile is blurry with distance from the camera. ‘I’ll write…something. I’ll show it to you when you get here.’

‘I’ll be looking forward to it, Alexander,’ Magnus murmurs, and he sounds proud.  

 

* * *

 

Alec walks into the kitchen on a Saturday morning looking down at his phone. Magnus had spent the previous evening finding subtle ways to annoy Cat while she studied, and filmed it all for Alec to see. He barely holds back a laugh each time, reaching up for a mug out of the cupboard. When he turns around, Robert’s eyes meet his.

‘Who’s that?’ Robert asks, and nods toward Alec’s phone.

‘Simon,’ Alec lies, and turns to the coffee machine. He opens his groupchat with the others and starts a brand new conversation, just in case he needs proof. He wouldn’t be surprised if Robert asked.

‘How is he?’

‘Yeah, he’s fine. Just doing band stuff.’

Alec taps his blunt nails against the countertop. He knows if his answers are too short, he’ll be questioned. Too long, and he’s hiding something. There’s a part of him that can never win.

‘You and Isabelle need to be careful about who you talk to, these days,’ Robert says out of the blue, and it takes everything in Alec not to tense up. ‘You never know who a person really is, especially online.’

‘I know.’ Alec grabs his mug, piping hot and steaming. ‘Why?’

‘Just the news.’ Robert nods down at the folded newspaper in front of him. ‘So many people these days are misled. All these people who think they know somebody and they’re a different person entirely.’

He breathes in, brow furrowed, and doesn’t meet Alec’s eyes; they wander off across the room. ‘Men your age are very…impressionable. One of you does something, the other does it too.’

‘I’m not like that,’ Alec says, keeping himself quiet and nonchalant. He’s scared to sound defensive. Sometimes he forgets that, years ago, his father could read him like a book. ‘Izzy isn’t, either.’

‘No, I know,’ he murmurs, not convinced at all. Alec would leave the room if it didn’t seem conspicuous. ‘Your mother and I are lucky to have two nice, normal children. Some people go through such terrible things.’

_ Normal.  _ What a word; what a meaning behind it. Alec wonders if that’s how he still classifies in his parents’ eyes.

‘In Albufeira, in the summer,’ Robert begins, and Alec looks up; he has taken to leaning against the counter, waiting for his bread to toast. ‘Did you like it there?’

‘It was nice, yeah,’ Alec says, thinking of everything he could say and stifling it. ‘The weather’s nice there. There’s stuff to do.’

‘We’re thinking about going back there in June.’ Robert empties his coffee mug, placing it back on the table, but he doesn’t stand up. Alec, in contrast, grips at the counter and jiggles his foot against the wooden flooring. He jumps when the toaster goes off. Both of them can tell who’s leading this conversation when their eyes meet. ‘You were always off doing something. You must know the place better than we do.’

‘There was a lot to do,’ Alec says.

‘I bet,’ Robert murmurs, knowing. 

Alec feels himself go cold. The door opens then, and he steps out of the kitchen just as Maryse steps in, telling her that she can have his toast.

He scrambles and hides all of his letters under his worn-out school books, some tucked into pages. When he texts Magnus back, a part of him feels guilty.

‘Be careful,’ Magnus pleads the next day, when Alec calls him and explains. 

‘Promise,’ Alec says, but isn’t quite sure what that  _ be careful  _ means.

 

* * *

 

Izzy’s doing her homework at one end of the table. Alec’s doing his at the other, thinking over all the letters he has to write and all the colleges he has to apply to, the grades he has to get, the places he’ll have to go. Maryse and Robert come and go every once in a while, but the living room door hasn’t opened in an hour. 

He hates all this college talk because he doesn’t know what to  _ do  _ with it—his plans for accountancy have been out the window ever since he realised it’s the last thing  _ he  _ wants. He thinks about writing and feels like he’s tripping into failure, but it’s also the most exciting thing to consider.

He keeps looking at the courses he’s supposed to be applying for.  _ English Literature and Creative Writing  _ bounces off the page. He looks at  _ Accountancy  _ and feels disgust rush up his throat. He hates feeling like he was born to make his parents proud when they don’t really care what  _ he’s  _ proud of.

So now, he and Izzy, they’re working. But Alec’s been thinking about things all day, all week, so he puts down his pen and pushing in his notebook, takes out his earphones and goes— 

‘Magnus is coming to New York.’

She freezes. It’s the normal reaction, Alec supposes. Her pen stops moving against her paper and she slowly looks up, meeting Alec’s eyes. 

She grins.

‘Holy shit,’ she near-whispers, and drops the pen. She leans across the table, knocking away pages and books and highlighters, arms folded up, overtaken with excitement as she grabs at Alec’s hands. ‘When? Are you meeting him? Can I go with you?’

‘ _ No,  _ Iz,’ Alec says, laughing, but he’s excited all over again too. ‘It’s gonna be on New Year’s Eve. Central Park.’

She cocks her head, brows furrowed. ‘How are you gonna get out of here?’

‘I’ll have to lie,’ he explains, and she nods. ‘Might have to get some people to help me out.’ He tips his head toward the wall; on the other side of it, Robert works, listening to piano melodies as he does so. ‘He’s getting suspicious about things.’

‘I’ll help you, big brother,’ Izzy assures him, and grins. She clasps his hand and squeezes. ‘You deserve a little bit of happy.’

He frowns. ‘So do you.’

She pauses.

‘I think I have it,’ Izzy whispers, and looks down. With her hoodie pulled up around her jaw, she hides a blush. Alec thinks of a girl with fiery red hair who he’s never really connected with in the best-friend way that Izzy wishes they would, but when she comes over she drapes herself on the couch and is more respectful than most of the people Alec has ever known. She giggles like the world doesn’t present her with limits. Izzy plaits her hair, long nails scraping along scalp. They talk about whatever comes to mind. Izzy watches her like the girl’s a thunderstorm and she just wants a closer look.

‘Clary?’ Alec asks.

It takes a minute but then Izzy nods, a little embarrassed, but a little proud too. She’s sure of what she believes. She’s sure of who she loves. The discussion of that ends there.

‘Do you think Simon would help?’ Alec continues, still offering up a comforting smile where Izzy retreats to her end of the table. ‘Remember last year, we stayed over at his house on New Year’s?’

She drops down to pick up scattered papers off the floor. ‘Mhm?’

‘Think we could do that again?’

Izzy realises the plan, then; she looks up at Alec and smirks. ‘We get everyone to believe it until you don’t show up.’

‘I could say I’m sick, or something,’ Alec continues, excitement blooming in his chest. ‘Elaine’s great, but she might figure it out.’

Izzy pauses. ‘Simon could tell her that day that you can’t go, and then nobody knows any better. She won’t call if she isn’t expecting you.’

‘I could stay with Magnus,’ Alec adds, hands pushed down on the table, ‘and then I could meet with you guys in the morning.’

‘They’ll be none the wiser,’ Izzy says, convinced.

‘And Magnus and I will see each other.’

Izzy grins.

‘I wish he was closer to me,’ Alec admits, longing. ‘I wish we didn’t live across the country.’

‘Things change, Alec,’ Izzy says, reaching for his hand. ‘People grow. You won’t be here forever.’

Alec shakes his head. ‘When did you get so wise?’

‘Learned it from you,’ she smiles, and then picks up her pen and begins a new paragraph.

 

* * *

 

It’s raining when Alec wakes up, drumming against the ceiling above him and running down the windows. 

That rain isn’t what wakes him, though; he’s woken by bright blue light on his bedside table that disappears after a moment, and he closes his eyes to ward off the headache beginning to bloom. It’s still dark outside, and he feels like sleep hasn’t quite taken him under yet. He pulls his phone away from the charger and squints as he turns down the brightness.

 

**_MB [04:17]:_ ** _ i forgot we took these. i thought you’d like to have em too. x _

 

And over the course of a minute or two, Magnus sends about fifteen different photos of him and Alec, all ones Alec had completely forgotten about. Alec scans each photo for detail, committing them to memory.

 

**_AL [04:25]:_** _thanks magnus._ _miss you_

 

**_MB [04:26]:_ ** _ miss you too. sleep well. x  _

 

He plugs his phone back in and turns over, smiling into his pillow, the rain lulling him to sleep. That weekend, he prints out the photos and tucks them into a folder full of old school assignments, beaming at the way their blurred faces show affection. If he wasn’t so scared, he’d hang them on his walls. He folds one into his phone case, instead.

You can tell it’s winter when Alec steps into school on Monday. It hasn’t really snowed yet, but there’s a bitter chill to the air that has Alec bundled up in a scarf and hat, wishing for brighter skies. He has planned for days what to say to Simon; Izzy eventually had to grasp his hands and scold him for considering writing a script. They’ve worked on how to explain together and now they’re doing it, quiet at their lunch table. Simon listens with a furrow in his brow. He starts smiling after a while. Somewhere along the way, Maia and Clary tune in. 

They know about Magnus already. Alec’s mentioned him in passing, here and there. He’s mentioned a hair colour or a small town or a smile the others haven’t seen before, and they eventually pieced the truth together. None of them ever really considered Magnus coming  _ here,  _ Alec meeting him again.

‘I think it’s cute,’ Clary says, twirling her fork like she would a pen, and Izzy smiles at her. ‘Not letting distance keep you guys apart, and everything. I wish I had something like that.’

(Izzy perks up at the other end of the table, like she’s about to make an offer. Part of Alec wants to tell Clary that she has what she wants in front of her, but that’s not his secret to share. Izzy remains alert for the rest of the day, as if the opportunity to speak might arise again.)

‘What’s he like?’ Maia asks. He fumbles with his phone, peeling off the case to produce a photo. It’s from a night he was too tired to remember, sleep pulling him every which way. They’d been half-tipsy and beaming from ear to ear, the water warm, no breeze to pull at their hair. Alec remembers the sea at his ankles and sand on his back and Magnus’ hands there, too, trailing up and down his spine.

Magnus is smiling in the photo, bold and beautiful. His t-shirt is damp, clinging to muscle and skin, and his hair flops down into his face. His feet are stuck under piles of sand and he’s leaning back on the ground, an arm bent behind his head. Alec’s the one taking the photo, and Magnus' eyes drift toward him. There’s only one person Magnus is smiling for.

Maia whistles, quiet. Alec finds her smirking across the table, eyes on him. ‘You’re screwed.’

‘He’s, uh…something,’ Simon whispers, voice sounding strained, a little bit like he’s forgotten how to breathe. Maia laughs at him. Clary nods with approval.

‘I’ll tell my mom that you guys are coming over,’ Simon promises that evening. The bell is ringing, the day ending, and students pour out the main doors like a flood. He pulls Alec into a gap between the lockers to hear himself speak. ‘She’ll believe us when you cancel.’

He hoists his bag up a little higher on his shoulders, humming. ‘It’s actually gonna work. Huh.’

Alec nods.  _ Yeah,  _ he realises,  _ things are actually working out. _

He smiles, thankful, and Simon understands. They walk outside together, sharing a one-armed hug before disappearing down opposite ends of the same street.

 

* * *

 

Alec thinks about the photos of Magnus hidden about his room and part of him feels guilty. It’s almost like when he was younger, when any display of affection would leave him looking for the nearest exit. It’s not disgust, no—just something vaguely similar. Something like dread.

_ These pictures shouldn’t be here,  _ he begins to think, one night, when they fall out of his ring binder.  _ I shouldn’t have them. I should throw them away. _

He doesn’t. He does think about it, though. He hides them better, and hopes he’s smarter than anyone who would go looking for them. 

Alec feels like he’s been taking more than he gives. These photos, these calls, and he couldn’t even send a letter. Once Izzy told him  _ Magnus would do anything for you,  _ and Alec hates that she’s right.

He thinks about Magnus' generosity. He thinks about the future, how Magnus is there in every scenario. He thinks about how it felt to find a bundle of letters with his name on them, a familiar name signing off, the feeling of love that fluttered about his chest.

So Alec does what he feels comes most natural: he writes. Not a letter, though. 

 

* * *

 

It’s more like a list.

_ You never believe me when I say how much I like you and I really wish you did,  _ he writes one night, a few days later, room illuminated by yellow lamplight _. You deserve it, yeah? And you never agree with me when I say it to your face, but maybe if you read about it, it’ll be harder to ignore. _

_ (I know you’re really tough on yourself. You do this thing where you close up when I try and talk about it, so we end up ignoring it entirely. I wanna talk to you about everything, good and bad. So if you’re stressed about exams—which I know you are, because you feel like you have to be the best despite already being that—you can talk to me. And if you’re scared about New Year’s then you can tell me about it too. _

_ Not that you’ll get this before New Year’s but, y’know.)   _

 

_ So, Magnus Bane: in honour of you and how great you are, and how you’ve completely changed my life, here’s a list of things. Just…things. Nothing very important, but things I’ve wanted to say but didn’t have the words for. I hope you enjoy it.  _

_ I love you, by the way. We haven’t really  _ said  _ it and I know this isn’t really us saying it either. It’s an effort, though. We’re very fond of those. _

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Alec thanks the gods for his sister, for her wisdom and understanding. This is one of those times.

She squeezes Alec’s hand as he pushes through the door of a store he didn’t catch the name of; one he’s lingered in front of too many times while passing, pushing the garments in the windows to the back of his mind. He remembers seeing people entering and leaving with full bags and wondering why he could never just…step in.

(It’s closer to Christmas, now, and the atmosphere reflects it; the holiday spirit falls on the city and it has people bundled up in layers but happy, still. Giving it a think, Alec keeps realizing that New Year’s is only a few weeks away.)

The person behind the counter gives a small wave as they enter. Izzy flashes a smile. Alec nods.

He looks at each rack and railing, breathing in slowly. There are other people milling around the store which somehow makes things better; none of them are paying him any mind. Izzy stands by his side and waits for him to move—he eventually drags her over toward a railing of t-shirts, bright as they cling to his arms. He looks at sterling silver necklaces. He tries a ring or two on for size. He buys jeans that fit him better and shoes that make him feel like standing tall. There are shirts with high collars and short sleeves, denim jackets with  _ resistance  _ printed on the back like a marking, and cardigans that are smooth to touch. Alec takes a couple of everything. He lobs a few necklaces and some nail varnish into the basket Izzy brings him. He buys a leather jacket to replace the hand-me-down from his father, rings to match the one he has hidden in a drawer at home, earrings he can wear without getting his ears pierced, nicer socks and better sneakers and a cologne that smells a little bit like clean laundry.

When they pay, he keeps his head tilted toward the ground. The person behind the register makes happy little noises about his choices; Izzy starts up a conversation with them and Alec joins in, eventually inspired to grab a few more things that go with a certain shirt or shoe.

Alec leaves the shop with three bags, and Izzy has to take one to keep him from toppling over. He feels light on his feet. He considers that maybe he could’ve done this all along. When his mother compliments him on a new pair of jeans he bought, he feels better than he has in months.

Izzy helps him match up outfits, that night.

‘It’s gonna be cold,’ she says, locking the bedroom door. She drops down onto the bed and admires the fabric of a button up. She grins as Alec pouts. ‘It might snow. Maybe a t-shirt isn’t the best.’

Alec gestures to the clothes on the bed, the jackets in the wardrobe, shoes on the floor. ‘I just— I wanna look good for him, y’know? This is…’

‘It’s important,’ Izzy finishes, and he nods. ‘It is. And you’re gonna look  _ amazing,  _ big brother.’

Izzy gets up, stepping in front of the wardrobe. She takes out some things, puts others away. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘Show-off,’ Alec mutters, and he shoves at her shoulder before sitting down where she was. Izzy pulls out an old, raggedy hoodie Alec owns; she grimaces before tossing it to the floor. He doesn’t mind—it’s pretty hideous. 

‘I was hoping you’d reinvent yourself,’ Izzy says. ‘That shirt from Magnus was gorgeous.’

‘Yeah, I liked it,’ Alec says. He admires the shirts on the pillow next to him, the new bracelets in his bedside drawer. He watches Izzy hold different pieces up to each other, either humming approval or shaking her head. ‘I wish I’d done this sooner.’

Izzy shrugs, stepping back over to the bed and tipping her head in consideration. ‘You weren’t ready to do it until now, though. Better late than never, hm?’

‘I guess,’ Alec murmurs. They go quiet as they study the items around them, and eventually Alec stands up beside her. ‘Hey—’

Izzy looks at him as he leans down, picking up a snug white t-shirt. ‘This, that sweater,’ Alec decides, and runs a hand across a dark green knitted sweater, ‘and my denim jacket. Black jeans. Those new boots.’

Izzy moves back over to the wardrobe. ‘Ripped black jeans?’

Alec considers it, and grimaces.

Izzy nods, pulling a pair off a hanger, her mind already made up. She smirks as she holds them out. ‘Ripped black jeans.’

‘You’re gonna kill me, Iz,’ Alec groans, but takes them from her anyway.

‘Only because you’ll be drop dead gorgeous and you’ll have me to thank,’ Izzy remarks. She throws the rest of the clothes at him, and he holds them loosely in his arms. ‘Try all that on. Maybe a necklace too? You can pick all that out.’

Izzy wanders out into the hall as Alec changes, feeling comfortable in his new shoes and jacket, pulling a bracelet and some rings from the table. He tucks a necklace under his shirt collar and the arrow on the end imprints in fabric. He takes a look in his mirror before opening the door.

‘Yes,’ Izzy says immediately as she enters, clasping her hands together and bouncing on her heels,  _ ‘yes.  _ Magnus might  _ cry  _ over this.’

‘This is…good.’ Alec faces back into the mirror, pulling on the ends of the jacket, fixing the sleeves. He smiles despite himself. ‘Yeah. I like it.’

He fiddles with the rings he put on—Magnus’ ring is there too. It feels right.

Izzy leans against the door, arms crossed. She’s smiling too. ‘I’m glad you’re happy now.’

‘It’s not that I wasn’t  _ happy  _ before _ ,  _ I was…’ Alec throws up a hand, lost for words. ‘I wasn’t satisfied, y’know? I wasn’t where I wanted to be.’

‘And you are now?’ Izzy asks.

Alec nods.

She walks toward him slowly and puts an arm around his waist. He drapes both of his arms around her shoulders and she buries her face in his sweater. ‘I’m proud of you.’

Alec smiles against her hair. ‘Me too, I think.’

 

* * *

 

  1. _I like how there was nothing good about winter until this year—until you._



 

  1. _I want to spend the New Year with you, by the way. I know we can’t, really, because you’ll only be here for a week and we have to be careful and there isn’t enough time to make up for everything else, but it’ll happen someday. Somewhere down the line._



 

  1. _I like your shirts and the way you wear them._



 

  1. _I hate the way I’m scared to wear them, too._



 

  1. _I like being home alone. It’s pretty much the only time I can talk to you, which means it matters a whole lot more. I can look at our photos. I can take out your shirt and wear it, and I can pretend I’m in a country where nobody knows me._



 

  1. _I don’t want anybody to know my story. I want them to live their life guessing who I am and what I believe in._



 

  1. _I like believing in you. You’re happy, and lovely, and beautiful. It’s good._



 

* * *

‘No drinking,’ Maryse insists, stirring her coffee. She throws a pointed glance Alec’s way where his head is stuck inside the fridge. He’s hiding his painted nails in the sleeves of his shirt, his rings heavy.

‘I know, Mom,’ Alec grins, grabbing a juice carton. Robert raises an eyebrow when Alec walks by, head poking out above his newspaper as he turns the page. Izzy catches Alec’s eye, giving him a sympathetic shrug. 

‘I’m serious, Alec,’ Maryse sighs, but there’s a fondness in her eye. ‘Especially at your age. All that peer pressure—’

‘Mom,’ Alec groans, trying not to laugh. ‘I’m not gonna be  _ drinking.  _ I’m going to Simon’s house.’

‘I know, I know,’ Maryse murmurs, throwing up a hand in surrender. ‘Elaine’s always been such a lovely woman. I’m glad you two are still friends with that boy. It’s good for you to get out, Alec.’  

‘It’s just for a day,’ Alec sighs, ever the teenager. He sips from his glass. 

Robert lowers the newspaper then, peering over at Alec and Izzy. ‘What have you got planned?’ 

‘Huh?’ Izzy mumbles, and takes out her earphones.

‘What will you do?’ Robert repeats, and throws Alec a pointed look.

He feels himself panicking. Izzy’s hands fidget under the table.

The lie feels real now.

‘Uh…I dunno?’ Alec says, pursing his lips and shrugging. ‘We don’t really plan stuff. Probably watch some movies, go out for the fireworks.’

He’s not really lying about that: that  _ is  _ what they do most of the time. Robert seems satisfied with the answer so he nods, pulling his newspaper back up to his face and humming a quiet tune to the radio.

‘Is Lucian’s girl going too?’ Maryse asks, stealing a strawberry from the packet next to her. ‘I know you two are close, Isabelle.’

Alec grins behind his mug. 

‘Yeah, Clary’s gonna be there,’ Izzy says, and shrugs. She gets up and leaves not long after.

She looks back at Alec as she closes the door—they both know the secrets they have to keep. 

‘How will Elaine manage all of you?’ Robert grumbles, standing up and dropping his empty mug in the sink. ‘Last I knew, their house wasn’t the most spacious.’

‘We’ll make it work,’ Alec insists. ‘It’s only the five of us, anyway.’

‘Well, as long as it’s only the five,’ Robert says, sounding a little vacant. He grips the counter and points a finger at Alec across the room. ‘Be careful. Be  _ responsible.’ _

‘Yes sir,’ Alec mutters, and follows Izzy’s lead.

She meets him in the hall upstairs, grabbing hold of his sleeve as he tries to pass. ‘Simon told Elaine,’ she whispers, relieved. ‘She believed it. This is gonna work.’

Alec can find no fault in their plan, but Izzy’s always rooting around to find the obstacles. She calls him into her room after he’s gotten changed to fix his hair, smooth out his jacket, check his nail polish, admire his rings.

‘Call me tomorrow,’ she says, trying to figure out whether his sleeves look better rolled up. 

‘I will,’ Alec promises, and lets her work. He almost laughs.

‘Call Magnus as soon as you get into the city,’ she continues. ‘I don’t want you wandering around tonight.’

‘I know, Iz.’

She grabs his shoulders, looking up at him with sincerity. ‘If you need anything, you can ask us. Make sure you have your charger, spare clothes, your—’

‘Iz,’ Alec cuts in, laughing, and presses a kiss to her forehead. ‘I’ve got it. I’m good.’

She grins up at him. ‘I’m just happy for you.’

‘I know.’

‘Say hi to him for me, will you?’ Izzy says before hugging him, pressing against his chest. ‘You’re good at hiding excitement.’

‘I’m…really excited. Seriously.’ Alec wraps his arms around her shoulders, letting out a nervous laugh. He keeps his voice quiet. ‘God, I didn’t think I’d get to see him again.’

‘You deserve this,’ Izzy reminds him before pulling back and grabbing her bag from the bed. She hands Alec his. ‘Okay, we’ve gotta go or we’ll be late.’ 

Alec nods, following Izzy’s lead as she jumps down the stairs two at a time. She hurries down the hallway and into the kitchen, waving her goodbyes. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Have fun!’ Maryse says, moving toward them to kiss them both on the cheek. She looks Alec up and down once, a split-second thing, before smiling and squeezing his arm. Robert stays in the living room as they hurry outside.

Izzy and Alec walk around the block from their house before going separate ways. She turns the corner, smiling back at Alec before disappearing, and Alec heads for the subway.

 

* * *

 

  1. _I like how it feels to wear the clothes I’m proud to wear. I like the weight of bracelets and rings. Everything’s so different to how I used to look, you know? Like, I used to be so scared of everything, but I’m not scared anymore. When we walked out of the store, nobody even looked at us. I don’t know why I thought they would—I think I thought they’d_ know. _Paranoia sucks._



 

  1. _I want to give the ring to you now. Remember the ring? I gave it to you and you gave it back because you’re a dummy that believes in destiny, or something, and wanted to be sure. I’m sure, now. I think I’ve been sure my entire life._



 

* * *

 

Alec doesn’t have that many people in his life. Like father like son, and Robert knows it. All of Alec’s friends are Isabelle’s friends and that’s how he met them—he stayed on his own until he couldn’t anymore. Maryse almost cried the first time Simon came over to their house, the sounds of guitars blasting from upstairs. 

So when Alec started spending all his time in the summer on his own, sneaking out at night—and Robert  _ knew  _ he was sneaking out, even if Alec thought he was being wise about it—Robert got a little suspicious.

Did he mention it? No. Because he  _ trusts  _ his son, trusts him to be a responsible leader, to know right from wrong.  

And then he started spending all his time moping. Waiting by the door. Scribbling on paper. Stealing Isabelle’s laptop and disappearing downstairs when he thought nobody had noticed.

The problem with Alec, Robert has noticed, is that he thinks he’s smarter than he is. He thinks he’s real clever, and it’ll be his downfall someday.

Alec doesn’t understand that Robert just wants his son to grow up  _ normal.  _ Young boys are too impressionable, these days. Especially with people you don’t know—people who hang around pools, talk to strangers, smile and wink and saunter.

Whoever that boy at the apartments was, Robert hates him. It burns deep in his gut. 

On New Year’s Eve, Maryse goes out to buy wine. As soon as the door shuts, Robert reaches for Isabelle’s laptop where it lies on the table and opens it up. 

 

**MISSED CALL: MB [17:46]**

**MISSED CALL: MB [17:48]**

 

Robert calls back. 

He considers, as he does it, if this is the right move. He considers if his children’s privacy is more important than them growing up right. He’s seen Alec huddled around this screen too many times, headphones on, speaking in hushed voices or typing fast, laughing as he does so. And as the dial rings, Robert knows that this is the right thing. Maryse would agree. 

‘Hi, darling,’ a voice says, then, breaking into the silence of the living room and leaving Robert cold. He doesn’t speak; he doesn’t even breathe. His hand grips tight against the top of the screen. The person on the other side sounds young, well-educated, affectionate. ‘Alec?’

Robert ends the call with a hand shaking in anger, brows furrowed, jaw clenched. He closes the laptop and leaves it on the couch.

Alec’s room is unlocked when he tries the door.

 

* * *

 

The journey isn’t nearly long enough. Alec can’t stop  _ thinking:  _ his mind’s going a mile a minute with all the things that could go wrong. He taps his nails against his knee and people-watches. 

Everything becomes a bit more real once he’s on the street. He walks until it’s only him and a few others at an intersection, spirits alight with anticipation for the evening. A group of tourists push past him, muttering apologies. He gets close to the wall to pull out his phone, tucked into a garage door.

They’d agreed not to talk to each other until Alec was in the city, and it had seemed reasonable the night before. Now, though? Alec feels weak, fidgeting constantly as the phone rings. His heart beats wildly in his chest.

‘There you are,’ Magnus says when he picks up, voice warm and lovely against Manhattan’s backdrop. ‘I was just about to call you back.’

‘Hey, Magnus,’ Alec murmurs, and asks, ‘where are you?’

‘I think I’m near the John Lennon memorial,’ Magnus says. Alec starts walking immediately, moving fast against the pavement, ducking and dodging people with shopping bags and umbrellas. ‘I walked until I was afraid I’d get lost.’

‘Yeah, I know where you are,’ Alec says, bag hiked up on his back, his wallet a weight in his pocket. ‘I got off at 72nd street so I’ll be there in a few.’

Magnus breathes down the phone, gentle. ‘Okay.’

Alec pulls at the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Okay.’

‘See you soon,’ Magnus promises, and Alec smiles as the call disconnects.

The evening’s nice, for a winter one. It may be cold and blustery but there isn’t much snow, only dotted in gutters and along fire escapes. The sky goes dark early this late in the year, but Alec knows his way around like the back of his hand. 

The trees are bare. He ducks onto smaller paths with his phone clenched in his hand, and it could break if he holds it any tighter. He’s glad Magnus didn’t wander too far, because Alec would fall over himself to reach him.

It’s a weird place for them to meet. Very public, very unlike anything Alec is used to. The moon’s out, though. The sky’s getting dark. 

He stops when he sees Magnus. He’s a silhouette, spiked up hair and a dark trench coat with his hands in his pockets, facing away, looking up at the stars. His breath turns to fog in the chill. 

It hits Alec, then, that he doesn’t know what to say. The past half-year condenses into nothing, but everything he’s ever wanted to tell Magnus disappears too. He’s frozen on the path. Passersby mutter, impatient, as they move around him. 

He starts walking again, whispering, ‘Magnus,’ as he does so.

He turns around. His smile is brighter than the summer sun, sweeter than anything—it’s a little like coming home. He starts moving, too.

There’s some red in his hair today, matching his sweater. There are bright silver studs adorning the shoulders of his jacket, running down along the back and sides. They glitter in lamplight as he moves.

They grapple for purchase as soon as they’re close enough. Magnus’ hands go to Alec’s waist, forehead pressed to Alec’s temple to breathe against his jaw. Alec’s hands find their way to Magnus’ back, palms rubbing warm circles into his jacket. They aren’t smiling now, even though they should be. Maybe feeling so much of  _ anything  _ toward one person is enough to make you cry. 

Alec doesn’t think of the people around them, not as he mumbles,  _ ‘you’re here,’ _ into Magnus' jacket, head dropping down to his shoulder. Magnus nods and shushes him, a hand moving into his hair, whispering things like,  _ ‘you’re okay,’  _ and,  _ ‘we’re okay,’  _ and _ ‘I’ve missed you’ _ . Alec pretends that he’s surrounded by smiles and cheers and praise for being tender in a public place. He imagines that there isn’t one person that’s disgruntled, shoving past them with a toxin in their mouth and the need for hate born down their throat.

He presses his lips to Magnus' shoulder before moving back, reaching for his waist. Magnus' hand moves away from Alec’s hair and he cups his face instead, his thumb running along Alec’s bottom lip.

‘Hi,’ Magnus whispers, tearful and grinning. Alec just breathes out, shaking his head. ‘How are you?’

Oh god, Alec loves him.

‘Magnus,’ Alec laughs, and hugs Magnus tight. They both laugh until they’re giddy. When they pull back, Alec reaches for Magnus' hands, takes them in his own—

He huffs. ‘Your hands are cold.’

Magnus scoffs, looking down at their joined hands and shaking them a little. ‘And yours are warm. It’s all balancing out.’

Alec bites his lip to suppress a grin. He feels like he’ll be smiling for the rest of his life. 

‘Hey,’ he says, and Magnus meets his eyes. ‘Wanna get dinner? I know some places.’

They start walking when Magnus nods, and it takes Alec a moment to reach for Magnus' hand. It’s foreign, here. Some part of him still feels uncomfortable from the years before, but now they’re walking to one of the little cafés Alec likes and he’s watching Magnus take in the road and the streets of the city, dodging pedestrians. When he swerves around a large crowd and disappears into it, Alec follows him and sweeps Magnus' hand into his own.

Alec goes rigid, but Magnus? He looks up at Alec, then down at the footpath, and smiles. Alec manages to relax a little after that, coming to terms with the lingering stares and confused frowns that Magnus has had to experience before.

‘Izzy says hi, by the way,’ Alec says, and Magnus looks at him with a smile. ‘She’s basically the reason I’m here right now.’

‘Well, tell her I hope to meet her someday,’ Magnus murmurs, and squeezes Alec’s hand. He bumps into Alec’s side when he turns down the wrong street and they laugh like they’re the only people alive. ‘I’m assuming she knows you’re here?’

Alec nods. ‘Her and a couple others. I gotta be back by tomorrow morning.’

‘Not tonight?’ Magnus asks, realising what it means—he smiles at the pavement. 

‘Not tonight,’ Alec confirms, and moves so that he’s walking backwards on the pavement, in front of Magnus, who watches him. He swings their joined hands and ducks in close. ‘Can I stay the night with you?’

‘Of course, Alexander,’ Magnus murmurs, biting his lip. He pulls Alec out of the way of a pole and back against his side. ‘The hotel’s lonely anyway. My father’s off getting suit-fitted for a function.’

‘My parents think I’m at a friend’s house,’ Alec admits, and grins at the lie.

‘I missed you,’ Magnus repeats, and drops his head against Alec’s shoulder. 

Alec laughs, and he presses a kiss to his hair. ‘Stop saying that!’

They stop outside the café Alec had been looking for. He pulls Magnus, still giggling, through the door.

 

* * *

 

‘It’s freezing,’ Magnus mutters, gloved hands stuffed into his pockets. He’s pressing into Alec’s side, breath fogging, a slight tremor to his frame.

‘Poor you, all the way from Cali,’ Alec grins, and throws an arm around Magnus' shoulders like it’s nothing at all. Nobody looks at them. Alec presses closer. He’s shivering, too.

‘Stop,’ Magnus laughs, and curls an arm around Alec’s waist. It’s so familiar, the happiest they’ve been in months.

They walk around the city like that, for a while. They blend in with everyone else. Magnus takes in the skyscrapers and the shops and the way the city seems to buzz with anticipation for the night.

They’d gone shopping earlier; they hadn’t had much money on them, but Magnus found a jewellery shop on the corner and Alec found some nail polish in a colour he didn’t have, and they stuffed everything into Alec’s bag. It’s too cold to be outside, really. Alec can feel himself going numb but he doesn’t want to waste a moment of tonight, so he’ll go wherever Magnus asks. When they reach the park Alec watches the crowds disappearing through the gates. A hand at his hip stops Alec from following them. He stumbles on his feet.

‘Hey,’ he mutters, and Magnus pulls them away. He halts when they find themselves in an empty section of the street. ‘What about the fireworks?’

Magnus sobers up a little, then: his expression goes soft, and he smiles.

‘Alexander,’ he murmurs. ‘I don’t care about the fireworks.’

‘But I thought you—’

He brings one hand up to Alec’s cheek. ‘It was an excuse to see  _ you.  _ You’re better than anything in this city.’ 

Oh.

Magnus grins. ‘I have a perfectly good balcony too. Just in case.’

_ Ah,  _ Alec thinks.  _ I thought I needed to convince you to come here. I thought I needed a good enough  _ offering  _ to have you make the trip.  _

Part of him wonders why he thinks Magnus will only keep him around if he has something to offer. He smiles in spite of everything, raising an eyebrow in question. ‘So…’

Magnus drops his hand from Alec’s cheek, pressing into his side. ‘Let’s go someplace warm, hm?’

‘Yeah,’ Alec murmurs. He drops a kiss into Magnus' hair without thinking, but the world doesn’t end.

 

* * *

 

‘And here we are,’ Magnus says, gripping Alec’s hand as he throws the door open. 

It’s dark when Alec gets inside. There’s a dim lamp in the corner that makes the space seem small, a large window on the far wall, bulky curtains in contrasting colours.

Magnus turns on the main light, then.

'I…’ Alec finds himself gaping as he moves, letting go of Magnus' hand. 'How much did this even cost?’

With the lights on, Alec can see the other two doorways: a kitchen and a living room and a slim stairway, colour schemes and polished tables and a plush carpet. If he steps back toward the window he can see up the stairs, the bed and the balcony behind it. 

(Alec thinks of the world years from now. He imagines he and Magnus in a home not too different from this, small and cozy, enough room for them and easy to fit guests into. He imagines creativity and love and pride. 

The future is warm for him. It fills with promise when Magnus Bane’s in mind.)

His eyes are wide when he looks at Magnus, who is laughing at the other side of the room. 'My father’s extravagant. Nothing less than wildly expensive.’ 

'It’s not even a room, it’s like a _house,’_ Alec says, shocked. Magnus hurries over to him, gripping at Alec’s elbow. 'I’d live here.’

'Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like,’ Magnus says, and leans in to kiss Alec’s cheek, lingering for a moment. His nose bumps against Alec’s cheekbone before he steps away, murmuring something about room service. He hums as he roots around the kitchen and while he does so, Alec disappears upstairs. 

It’s nice up here, too. The bed is big and covered in cushions, and there’s a stack of books on the bedside table. Clothes hang out of the dresser. The balcony door is shut and Alec walks up to it, watching the city move outside.

Magnus shows up a few minutes later, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck and tossing it on the armchair. He presses himself against Alec’s back, arms curling around his waist, his forehead pressed into Alec’s neck.

'What’s on your mind?’ Magnus whispers.

‘The summer,’ Alec murmurs, fiddling with Magnus' rings where his hands press into Alec’s stomach. ‘I don’t know what things will be like this year.’

He breathes out. ‘I used to be scared of everything, y’know? I was scared of myself. I can feel myself…going back to that.’

Magnus frowns. ‘Yeah?’

‘It’s different without you,’ Alec says, because it’s the truth. Everyone knows it. ‘When I’m here and you’re back home, all I have is my friends. And sure, they’re great, but they don’t  _ get it.  _ They tell me that I’m great how I am, and they’re nice about, it but they tiptoe around it.’

‘I think they understand more than you give them credit for,’ Magnus hums, and moves closer—as if that’s even possible.The air around them is stifling. Alec doesn’t argue with him. ‘What about your parents?’ 

Alec pauses. 

‘I like to think they wouldn’t kick me out, but it’d still feel the same,’ he admits, quiet, and Magnus presses a kiss to his shoulder. ‘Even if they wouldn’t make me leave, they’d forget I exist.’

'They do love you, Alexander,’ Magnus says, knowing that it doesn’t account for much. It’s nice to believe, all the same.

'I know they do. I think they just…they like the person they think I am, right? They don’t know me.’

Alec lifts his hands like touching Magnus burns him, sudden, and he hates it. He knows what this feels like because  _ of course _ he does—it’s pure disgust in where he is and what he’s doing, even if for a moment. He grew up with this. It made him, in ways. ‘They praise me for being normal, y’know. They tell me all the time. They  _ thank  _ me for not being…for not being gay. It’s been happening for years.’

It hasn't happened in months, he recalls. Maybe that should've been a warning.

(He hates how memories can ruin a day, sometimes.) 

‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?’ Magnus asks, and he’s serious; he moves to look Alec in the eye, cupping his cheek. There’s something concerned in his gaze and Alec hates having put it there.

Alec shrugs. ‘We barely got time to talk—I didn’t want to ruin your day with this stuff.’

‘Alexander, darling,’ Magnus murmurs, thumb brushing along Alec’s bottom lip, ‘I will always want to know how you feel. Don’t think you’re a burden to me.’   

Alec tries to believe him, and his guilt seems to lessen. He smiles, shy. ‘Thanks.’

‘Of course,’ Magnus says, beaming with crinkling eyes. He drops a chaste kiss to the corner of Alec’s mouth before stepping away, before Alec can lean in for more. ‘I’m going to go order cocoa to bring up.’

‘Okay,’ Alec murmurs, and he feels free.

But there must be something about him that Magnus doesn’t like—neither of them move, for a moment. Magnus bites his lip where he stands at the top of the stairs, but then he’s on his way back over and he’s wrapping his arms around Alec’s shoulders.

And yeah—okay. This makes everything a little better.  

They stand there for a while; Alec grabs onto Magnus' waist, burying himself in everything soft and warm, and doesn’t let go. They sway in the dark. When they let go it’s with regret, but the night is long and neither of them knows what it holds. 

Magnus hurries down the stairs then, still smiling as he throws open the door. ‘Don’t get lost!’ Alec shouts, and Magnus' laughter echoes through the hall. 

 

* * *

 

‘What was it like?’ Alec asks, crossing his legs. He reaches for the tall glass of hot chocolate that Magnus is holding steady. The tray has been abandoned on a table and Magnus climbs into bed, the two piled into the middle, extra pillows thrown on the floor. Alec’s bag is tipped over onto the floor, contents spilling out. 

Alec’s pinky nail is now a deep purple, glittering in the light. A couple charms hang from Magnus' new bracelet. There’s music coming from the speakers and Alec’s phone is turned off, charging on the counter downstairs.

All they’ve done is talk. They’ve talked about all the things they’ve missed and everything they’re about to do, and Alec’s missed this. He’s missed not having to  _ worry.  _ He’s allowed to exist. ‘Y’know, coming out to your dad. He doesn’t seem…’

'All warm and fuzzy? It changes by the day. He’s kind when he needs to be.’ Magnus' smile is weary. 'It happened by accident, really. He told me he didn’t really care. I’m still not sure that’s the answer I was wishing for.’ When he laughs it’s weak, forced, and he picks at the fabric of the covers. He pulls at a thin pink thread where it’s coming loose. 'He’s never mentioned it again. Perhaps he forgot.’

‘My dad’s always been complicated,’ Alec explains. ‘He gets embarrassed by anything that’s different. My mom used to believe a lot in family legacy, but…not so much anymore.’

‘Do you think she’d prefer you happy?’ Magnus asks, an eyebrow raised. Alec almost laughs. 

It’s a serious questions, he realises, and he wonders what it’d be like for them to know he’s gay and be okay with it. How different would life be, if they knew he’s spending a night in the city with a boy that keeps him warm. When he tries to think about it, he comes up blank. It doesn’t seem like a possibility. ‘It’s just— I wanna hold onto  _ me  _ a little bit longer. I don’t want things to change, and they  _ will _ .’

Magnus nods, and it’s the first time he’s hearing this—these are the kinds of things they’d strayed away from discussing, back then, but now Alec’s up for anything.

‘I was younger when I came out to Izzy, thirteen or fourteen, I think? And I was scared to talk to her for weeks after,’ he admits, guilty. ‘I was so  _ sure  _ that she’d act different. I got scared that I’d ruined everything.’

Magnus reaches for his hand. Everytime is like the first, and there’s something about Magnus' rings, cold against his skin, that’s nearly intoxicating.

‘Being yourself won’t ruin anything,’ Magnus insists. ‘Anyone who thinks so doesn’t deserve the real you.’ 

Alec smiles. He face goes warm.

He loves feeling like this. 

Magnus puts down his mug and takes Alec’s hand in both of his own.

‘Come with me,’ Magnus says, rising from the bed, pulling Alec along behind him. They stop in front of the wall mirror. Magnus looks over Alec’s shoulder, running a hand down his arm, all light touches to make Alec shiver. ‘You’ve changed a lot since I last saw you.’

Alec almost says  _ no,  _ almost says  _ you’re wrong. _ He hasn’t changed. He can still see the person he was six months ago when he glances in the mirror, Magnus gripping at his shirt. ‘I have?’ 

‘Your hair? You never used to style it.’ Magnus scratches at the nape of Alec’s neck, fingers combing through his fringe. ‘It was beautiful then, and it’s beautiful now. You’ve painted your nails,’ he notes, lifting Alec’s hand up to the mirror, ‘which you never let me do. You’re standing a little taller, too.’

He presses his lips to Alec’s knuckles, and Alec sees himself smile in the mirror. 

Magnus nudges his shoulder, and their eyes meet in their reflection. ‘Sometimes the outside can reflect the inside, yeah?’

Alec nods. ‘Yeah.’

They don’t move. Magnus is still holding Alec’s hand. He’s thumbing over Alec’s knuckles when he pauses. 

He lifts the hand closer to his face, squinting.

‘This ring,’ he murmurs, lost in thought, and runs a finger along the pattern. ‘Is this—’

Alec hums. ‘It’s the one.’ 

Magnus breathes out, pressing a hand to Alec's hip. ‘I wish I’d done things differently. Saying goodbye. The letters. The  _ ring,’  _ he says and almost laughs, forehead dropping to Alec’s shoulder. ‘God, I really am a hopeless romantic.’

Alec laughs with him. That night, the one before he’d left—it feels worlds away. He’d been angry and sad and hopeful. The world was ending. They’d been  _ desperate.  _

‘I didn’t think I’d make it, y’know,’ Alec notes, and they turn to look at each other, hands on shoulders and waists and wrists, skin cold and warm. ‘You  _ freed  _ me, in a way. I hope you know that.’

Magnus gives a shy smile.

‘I’d never gotten to love who I wanted to before then,’ Alec explains. ‘I got that freedom for a few weeks before I had to leave it behind, and I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want you to forget everything. Forget...me.’

Magnus frowns, fingers clinging desperately to his shirt fabric, as if to say:  _ how do you think I’d ever forget you? _

‘I shouldn’t have begged you to stay,’ Alec says, embarrassed. Magnus squints across at him, disbelieving. ‘If you love them let them go, right?’

‘Don’t tell me you believe that,’ Magnus murmurs, eyes on Alec as he kisses the back of Alec’s hand.

Alec laughs, cheeks warm. ‘I don’t.’

‘Good,’ Magnus says, and they sway a little where they stand. A cold breeze comes in from the balcony door where it’s been left ajar.

‘I remember—’ Magnus begins, squeezing Alec’s hand. ‘I remember you said you were writing something.’

‘Is that so?’ Alec smiles. Magnus nudges him to continue. ‘It’s not done yet.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘You’ll get it soon.’ Alec moves them toward the middle of the carpet, laughing when Magnus pouts. ‘You  _ will. _ I promise.’ 

They press close, and if they wanted to, they’d be dancing; their feet move them in a circle around the floor, one of Alec’s hands clasped in Magnus' and the other on Magnus' hip. Their temples are pressed together, and Alec feels Magnus' breath against his skin until— 

A whisper from Magnus' lips. ‘I love you.’

They stop moving. From where Alec stands he can see the entire city through the window and he’s glad that tonight, nobody knows they exist. Their socked feet make moulds in the carpet, and Magnus curls his shaky hands into Alec’s shirt. 

Alec wants to see Magnus' eyes. He wants to know what he’s thinking. 

Neither of them move.

Magnus lets out a breath. ‘I thought you should know.’

‘I love you, too,’ Alec says, barely a beat between them, and happiness floods through him until he might drown. He hears Magnus laugh against his ear, happy and disbelieving, and Alec laughs too. ‘That’s…wow. That was easy to say.’

‘It’s easy when you mean it, I think,’ Magnus says, wise as ever, and  _ now  _ he pulls back. There’s nothing but relief in his eyes, as if he thought Alec didn’t love him, like that was  _ possible— _ ‘We never got the chance to say it back then. It’s about time.’

‘Yeah,’ Alec murmurs, but his thoughts are a world away. He pulls back his hand and looks down at his ring,  _ the  _ ring. He meets Magnus' eyes. ‘Y’know, you told me to give this to the person I can’t live without.’

‘I did.’

‘I like that sentiment,’ he continues, twirling it off his finger. It shines in the overhead light. ‘But I don’t think it’s fair. That means I could give this to Izzy or Simon or Maia. There are a lot of people I don’t think I can live without.’

‘But still, with all these people I love—’ The rings sit, heavy, in Alec’s palm— ‘I wanna give it to you. That’s gotta mean something.’

‘Alexander,’ Magnus whispers, the word pulled out of him. 

‘I’ll repeat that until you believe me,’ Alec laughs, but Magnus just reaches for him.

‘Alec,’ he smiles, and cups his face.

‘Yeah?’

They go quiet. Outside there’s the sound of fireworks, people cheering, a city full of hope—the two of them blend in with all of it. Two boys. Two boys that love each other. Two boys that have waited  _ so long. _

‘Happy new year,’ Magnus says, slipping on the ring. 

When he moves in close, gaze dropping to Alec’s lips, Alec remembers how it feels to breathe.

He’s feverous, hot and cold from top to toe and his hands fly to Magnus' shoulders just so he can hold  _ something,  _ Magnus  _ warm,  _ his mouth  _ warm,  _ his hands  _ burning.  _ A whispered  _ oh _ escapes Alec’s lips and Magnus grabs at his sweater, fabric caught in his hands and he smiles despite himself. Alec smiles too.

It feels so normal, so  _ good— _ it’s everything Alec had been missing, and now he’ll never let it go.

They move without meaning to and Alec feels himself being pushed backwards, close to the balcony glass, and it’s cold through his shirt when he reaches it. Magnus grips at his hair and his knuckles knock off the glass as he does so, kicking the door shut, abandoning the lock. He laughs against the corner of Alec’s mouth. Alec grapples and finds Magnus' shirt, catching it between his fingers and pulling Magnus close, closer, tantalizingly so. 

Magnus moves to press his lips to Alec’s jaw, kisses trailing down his neck. His hand drops to Alec’s hip. And when Magnus' hand ducks under Alec’s shirt, and he presses it to the bare skin of his side—

Alec laughs. It’s drawn out of him by accident, and his face goes red.

Everything stops, for a minute.

‘Alexander,’ Magnus breathes and he’s panting now, voice rough and heavy. ‘Are you ticklish?’

And Alec almost argues, moving to say  _ no,  _ but then Magnus runs his hand along Alec’s side and presses a kiss near his collarbone and Alec starts downright  _ giggling. _

It’s a chain reaction, in a way. Once they’ve started they can’t really stop.

Alec pushes them away from the glass and back near the centre of the room, but the moment has changed. It’s no longer desperate kisses in the time they don’t have—the night is long, they’re both  _ happy,  _ and nobody’s going anywhere. Magnus has his forehead tucked against Alec’s neck as they walk, but eventually Alec feels the bed behind him, and he drops down onto it. He grips at Magnus' sides when they move to kiss again—the slow press of lips to temple, nose and cheek. They find themselves slowing to a stop. 

Alec opens his eyes to find Magnus already watching him. He’s smiling, breathing heavy, and there’s an astonishment in his eyes that Alec has never seen. 

Alec never thought he’d get here. He never thought they’d find themselves like this again. He’s trapped inside Magnus' hands where they press into the duvet. Their shirts are wrinkled and Alec knows his hair’s a mess, and he’s sweaty and tired and buzzing with adrenaline but it’s all he’s ever wanted.

Their foreheads meet. They breathe each other’s air. 

‘Happy new year, Magnus,’ Alec whispers, hands in Magnus' hair. It’s dark outside, but Alec’s bursting with light. He knows nothing but sun. ‘I love you.’

Magnus kisses his cheek. Fireworks explode outside. ‘Still?’

‘Yeah,’ Alec says, and kisses his forehead, his left temple, his jaw. ‘Still. Forever. Over and over again.’  
  


 

* * *

 

**iz [11:34]:** alec dad knows we lied what are we gonna do??

 

**iz [11:38]:** he called elaine bcus you werent answering ur phone

 

**iz [11:41]:** i think hes told mom

 

**iz [11:47]:** do you want me to tell elaine??

 

**iz [11:52]:** alec please call me

 

**iz [11:57]:** alec

 

* * *

 

  1. _I hope you know you’re beautiful. Like, really. I doubt it’s something you’re able to ignore, and I won’t let you ignore it anyway._



 

  1. _I don't think I had a choice about loving you. I’m pretty sure I was gone for you in seconds. You’re pretty much a magnet for beautiful things, babe._



 

  1. _I don’t care that I’ve said it before, by the way—you’re so fucking beautiful. I don’t think I can describe it. I could get lost in you._



 

* * *

 

He’s wrapped up in warmth.

The balcony door isn’t open but the morning’s still cold; it nips at his toes and his fingers and the tip of his nose. The room is dark, but the city moves beneath the curtain’s hem.

None of that matters, though. Because there are arms curling tight around Alec’s stomach and gentle breath on the back of his neck. A bent knee presses into the back of his thigh.

Magnus sleeps next to him. There are no parents to hide from, or secrets to keep. It’s just them and the early morning sun.

This, Alec realises, is what bliss feels like.

He drifts in and out of sleep for an hour or two, curling deeper under the covers each time. When he wakes for the final time it’s to kisses pressed against the back of his neck and a warm hand covering his.

He takes in a deep breath, and the movement near him pauses. Then, another kiss.

‘Good morning,’ Magnus whispers, lips hovering over the curve of Alec’s shoulder.

Alec presses back into Magnus' warmth and blinks the sleep from his eyes. His voice is sleepworn, scraping against his throat. ‘Morning.’

Magnus huffs out a laugh, tightening his grip on Alec’s waist. He presses his forehead to the space between Alec’s shoulder blades. ‘How’d you sleep?’

‘Better than I have in months,’ Alec says, and smiles into the pillow. He hasn’t turned around yet—isn’t sure he’ll be able to look at Magnus, sleepy and beautiful, and comprehend it. ‘I’m not exactly sure  _ why,  _ y’know. It was just a regular night. Same as always.’

He’s smirking.

‘Oh, is that so?’ Magnus murmurs, and Alec barks out a laugh when Magnus pokes at his sides. He squirms beneath the sheets and rolls over to face Magnus, then, messy hair and half-open eyes making him quite the spectacle. 

Oh, he’s beautiful. Alec’s missed him. He’s missed him  _ so much. _

He buries his face in Magnus' shoulder, smelling leftover cologne, the fruity one Alec likes. His skin is warm, easy to relax into, and Alec feels an arm come up around his waist. ‘What time is it?’

‘Just after nine,’ Magnus sighs. He feels feverish where his hand presses against the bare skin of Alec’s back, fingers curling.

‘Mm, good.’ Alec dozes, then, an accidental thing. All he can hear is Magnus breathing and it’s nicer than anything he’s heard before. He remembers waves, laughter, half-tipsy kisses, looking in the mirror and liking what he saw. He’d prefer this to all of it. He’d forget it all to get another day here, in Magnus' bed, curling into him.

They lie together until light starts creeping in under the curtains, and it hurts Alec’s eyes when he opens them. He feels Magnus stir and then he’s getting up, moving from where Alec lies on top of his chest.

He kicks his feet over the side, one hand still clutching the sheets. Alec covers it with his own.

Magnus looks down at their hands and laughs. It sounds like a breeze feels, and everything about this is beautiful. ‘Breakfast?’

Alec finds himself sitting up too, sitting cross legged beneath the covers. He points toward his bag. ‘My wallet’s in the small pocket.’

Magnus narrows his eyes, looking back at him. ‘If you want to pay, come and order with me.’

Alec considers it, but he drops back down onto the mattress instead, narrowly missing the headboard. Magnus laughs when Alec clutches his hand, pulling Magnus down with him. He presses his other hand into the mattress at Alec’s side.

Magnus kisses him, then. It’s nice while it lasts, but they both pulling away with a grimace after seconds.

Alec pouts, a hand at Magnus' neck. ‘Morning breath.’

Magnus laughs as he rolls off the bed, going downstairs to search for menus.

Alec lies there until he hears Magnus on the phone, wandering over to the banister to see Magnus strolling around the room, stretching the phone cord and twirling it around his finger. He pulls on a t-shirt from the floor, guessing it’s his. He skips past Magnus with a hand to the small of his back, reaching for his phone. He leans back against the counter as he turns it on.

Notifications start to come in just as Magnus' ends the call, wandering over to Alec with a smile. ‘I hope you like belgian waffles.’

Alec hums, intent on listening, but he finds himself focused on all the texts he’s gotten, the calls he’s missed. He grips the phone a little tighter.  

‘I need to call Izzy,’ he murmurs. ‘She’s very…’ 

He opens the conversation.

Magnus moves closer. ‘Very?’

‘Adamant.’ He looks up, confused. It’s been hours since she last texted. He doesn’t want to know what that means. He meets Magnus' eyes. ‘I think I have to go.’

‘Is everything okay?’ Magnus asks, squeezing Alec’s shoulder, always warm.

‘Yeah, I’ll be fine,’ he says, making himself pull away.  _ I don’t know,  _ he wanted to say.  _ I don’t know what’s happening. _ ‘I’ll let you know if I can come back over today.’

‘I’ll be looking forward to it,’ Magnus smiles, momentarily cupping his cheek, and then lets him go get changed.

 

* * *

 

Izzy tries to stop him when he walks in, which he expects. The door’s barely open before she’s trying to talk to him, whispering while she pushes him back outside.

‘They won’t listen to me,’ Izzy murmurs, a hand moving to close the door. Alec finds himself frozen where he is. ‘They looked in—’

Alec sees Robert’s figure in the kitchen, head bowed at the table. Maryse has her eyes down too, but they’re talking among themselves. They haven’t noticed him yet.

He could leave. He could run and pack his stuff, but where would he go?

‘It’ll be fine,’ Alec interrupts, and presses a kiss to her forehead. ‘I’ll be fine.’

He drops his backpack onto the floor, moving to stand in the doorway. 

He’s not as scared as he expected to be. He feels a little bit inevitable, right now. There’s a silence that stalks between them, pulling at Alec’s hair and making his hands shake. He stands his ground.

‘Where were you last night?’ Robert asks, and he sounds  _ tired,  _ worn out, on the verge of something. He turns himself around to face Alec, and meets him with piercing eyes. He scrubs a hand over his face. ‘You weren’t at Elaine’s. We called Aline’s mother, too. You wouldn’t answer your phone and your sister wouldn’t say a word.’

Alec shrugs, his words leaving him. He finds himself moving further into the room. Maryse closes the door behind him, but she doesn't turn the lock. Maybe she wants him to leave before things get bad. 

And, yeah—they’re gonna get bad. 

‘You’ve been different lately,’ Maryse says. She sounds scared, rubbing her hands together behind her back. ‘We were  _ worried,  _ baby, we didn’t—’

‘We didn’t know what you were getting up to behind closed doors,’ Robert snaps, and Maryse goes silent. ‘We have a right to know those things. But then I found…this.’

It’s silent.

Alec remembers folding the paper. 

He recognises the list as Robert unfolds it, but there’s ways around that—a girl or an assignment or  _ something;  _ he wasn’t hiding it, it got lost. He can—

‘And these,’ Robert continues. He takes an envelope of photographs and slaps them down onto the table. Alec recognises the one on top; sand and sea and Magnus, smiling and lying next to him, and there hadn’t been a night warmer than that one. And maybe this is a little difficult to explain, but there’s nothing incriminating in the ones they took;  _ he’s a friend,  _ he’ll say. Yeah, he’s a friend, and they’ll eventually get off his back—

‘And these,’ Robert says, voice cold, and then he pulls out the letters.

Somewhere along the way, tangible evidence didn’t seem as incriminating. But now Magnus' words are being smudged under Robert’s furious hands, and suddenly Alec wishes he hadn’t tried to be poetic. He wishes he’d kept his mouth shut, hand away from the pen.

He tries to think of a way out of it. He counts the letters in the stack and yeah, they’re all there—why didn’t he hide them better? Why did he keep them? Why is Robert looking at them and laughing?

He cuts himself off suddenly, slamming his hands against the tabletop—he looks Alec up and down with disgust. ‘Nail polish. Rings.’

Alec’s hands suddenly weigh him down; the colour on his nails is like poison, a spiral of silver around his index finger and an engraved pattern on his thumb. He wishes he’d taken them off. Why didn’t he take them off?

‘I suspected something when these started to arrive,’ Robert says, nearly  _ growls  _ it, venom behind every word when he grips a letter, tearing the corner. ‘We didn’t open them because we value your privacy. We do. We’ve never interfered.’

‘We just wanted to protect you,’ Maryse murmurs, her eyes trained on Robert.

Everything goes quiet. Alec’s hands stay behind his back, nails digging into his palm. His head is bowed. Robert drums his fingers on the table.

And then, like fire to a wound, ‘I want to speak to him.’

‘No,’ Alec mutters, just as fast. He watches as Robert’s gaze shoots up. Fear settles deep in his bones.

‘What do you mean,  _ no?’ _

‘He’s no one,’ Alec whispers, and he wants this to end. He feels tears pricking behind his eyes and there’s something in his throat and he can feel Maryse looking at him,  _ waiting.  _ She’s pleading with him in that silent way she’s used to.

Why isn’t she saying anything? Why can’t she fix this?

Alec always thought he’d be louder than this. Stronger. He always thought he’d show why it doesn’t matter what they think about who he loves. They don’t have the right to interfere.

Magnus is all Alec’s ever wanted—so why the hell can’t he speak?

‘He’s putting goddamn ideas in your head!’ Robert shouts. When he tries to stand, Maryse grabs his shoulders and pushes him back down into his seat. He’s seething. ‘We warned you, we told you to be  _ responsible.’ _

Alec feels the wall against his palms, but he doesn’t know when he moved there. Robert’s breath is shaky when he exhales. When he stands up this time, nobody stops him. 

He doesn’t come too close, but Alec can see the scuffs on his loafers where they haven’t been polished. ‘He’s manipulating you, that’s all this is, and  _ no  _ son of mine is going to—’

Ah— 

Maryse grabs at his arm. ‘Robert—’

_ Here it comes— _

Alec looks up. 

‘No, c’mon,’ he says. He meets Robert’s eyes. ‘No son of yours is going to…?’

Nobody says a word; they all know what he means.

‘Where were you last night?’ Robert repeats.

‘In the city.’

‘With him.’

Alec shrugs. ‘Why does it matter?’

Robert laughs with a sneer, hand curling around the counter’s edge. ‘What does he want? Money?’

Alec scoffs. ‘No.’

‘Then what does he want with  _ you?’ _

It must sound funny, right? What a joke: anyone wanting to be around Alec, choosing it themselves. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

Robert looks up at him. His eyes narrow as he throws his hands out, reaching into Alec’s pockets. ‘Give me your phone.’

_ ‘No,’  _ Alec snaps, and shoves him away. Robert stumbles, and then the shouting starts.

* * *

 

  1. _You’ve got me thinking ahead. Months, years—there’s a life to live and I really want you in mine. I don’t have the courage to say that out loud, by the way, but I think this is it. You’re it. If we’re still here years from now, I’ll take this out and show it to you, but I’m not that good at confessions._



 

  1. _Does this count as a confession? It feels like I’m bearing my soul. It’s everything I want to say. You are so many things that I don’t have the words for. I can say this, though—_



 

  1. _Magnus? You’re something else. You better know that._



 

* * *

 

The world doesn’t end, no matter how much Alec expects it to. Robert doesn’t kick him out and they don’t get violent, but there’s an empty space in his bag where his phone used to be—he walked into his room and slammed the door, and the place looked wartorn.

There’s something violating about it. The whole situation leaves Alec feeling unsafe. He wonders how many times Robert’s done this, if he plans on doing it again. The keys were found for locked drawers, searches done under the mattress. And now Alec’s sitting in a room with his clothes piled on the floor, his box of jewellery tipped over, a year’s memories washed away.

He can hear Maryse and Robert arguing downstairs. He could go and steal back the letters but he doesn’t know what’ll happen after—Izzy’s been listening, keeping track of what they say for future reference. 

They lecture her but she keeps her phone, and at midnight she leads Alec out into the garden, pressing it into his hand.

‘They’re gonna check on you at half past,’ she informs him, and he begins to plan his life in schedule. ‘You have to let him know.’

Alec nods. ‘I know.’

‘You okay?’ Izzy asks.

‘I dunno.’

Izzy hugs him before she leaves. Alec waits, hiding in the dark at the bottom of the patio steps. He dials the number and he feels himself forget how to speak.

He hears a click—somebody breathes on the other end, the sound familiar and light.

And with a rush of air, the words barely arriving, Alec whispers, ‘they know.’

The breathing stops. 

Alec almost decides that he’s lost everything. He’d do anything to kiss Magnus right now, give anything to hold him, throw an arm around his shoulders down a busy street. When can they go back to whenever everything was easy? Why can’t it be a secret anymore?

‘I’m sorry,’ Magnus murmurs, and there’s more grief in his voice than Alec’s used to. ‘I’m so sorry, darling.’

‘I can’t see you anymore,’ Alec admits, and the two of them talk until fear creeps up Alec’s throat. His hands shake until he nearly drops the phone. He hands it back to Izzy, reluctant, and disappears into his own room.

Maryse comes in when the clock reads 00:31; Alec hears her linger outside the door before she knocks. She pokes her head in, sympathetic, and then notices the mess on the floor. She frowns.

Her eyes find Alec, cross legged atop the covers. She puts on a smile. Every part of Alec wants to ask her why she did nothing today but watch, but he doesn’t.

‘We’ll tidy this tomorrow,’ she murmurs, voice ready for sleep. Robert hasn’t come upstairs yet; maybe he’s found a home on the couch. ‘We’ll put it all back where you want it.’

Alec nods. Maybe she doesn’t just mean the room. There’s so many words that she won’t say that Alec wants to hear; he wants to hear  _ I love you,  _ and  _ you’re still my son, _ and he wants her to ask about Magnus. He wants to show her pictures of them from months ago while he smiles and blushes. He wants reassurance, because his strength is fading, right now. He’d had a plan—everything he’d been waiting for has been taken away. 

He’d been waiting to tell her. Maybe he waited too long. 

‘We’ll fix this,’ Maryse murmurs, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She walks over to the bed, kneeling down. ‘We’ll make this better.’

Alec moves forward until he’s pressing his face into her shoulder. Her arms wrap around him; she drops a kiss into his hair.

_ Maybe she doesn’t mind,  _ Alec finally accepts. Maryse doesn’t shush him when he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [@maqbane](http://maqbane.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [@plutojiminie](http://twitter.com/plutojiminie)
> 
> part 3: coming soon!
> 
> #saveshadowhunters

**Author's Note:**

> come and chat on tumblr: [@maqbane](http://maqbane.tumblr.com)
> 
> i accidentally neglected replying to comments here until it was too late and because im so bad at it already, i completely forgot. i get email notifications for comments/kudos though, so rest assured that i've seen every comment and pretty much cried over every kind word!!!! x


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